Fourth floor common room, Sunday morning

[saltandammo.livejournal.com]

Dean was in the kitchen making breakfast for whoever happened by as he occasionally was wont to do. Hunter was with him, stalking across the back of the sofa and sniffing curiously inbetween the cushions. The tv, thankfully had been dispossessed of whatever weirdness that had had it playing pirate porn the night before and Dean had it tuned to nothing more provocative than some music videos.

All in all it was a fairly cheerful morning.

[OOC: free breakfast for any who wants it.]

Comments

[morpherboy.livejournal.com]

"Got drunk?"

[saltandammo.livejournal.com]

Dean shook his head. "Secret military corporation."

[morpherboy.livejournal.com]

"Ah. One of those. So what's your special thing then? Other than having a guy who wears your face walking around."

[saltandammo.livejournal.com]

Dean grinned. "Demon hunter. My whole family is."

[morpherboy.livejournal.com]

"Demons like bad horror movie demons?"

[saltandammo.livejournal.com]

"Pretty much, except the real thing is a hell of a lot scarier and smarter."

[morpherboy.livejournal.com]

"And probably don't have zippers sticking out."

[saltandammo.livejournal.com]

Dean grinned. "You got it."

[morpherboy.livejournal.com]

"So how much fact is there in those movies?"

[saltandammo.livejournal.com]

"Depends on the movie," Dean said. "A little truth here, a little truth there... I wouldn't trust them too much for research, but they're not complete crap."

[morpherboy.livejournal.com]

"Sounds...like a lot of things actually. Especially those "autobiographical" novels about movie stars and political figures."

[saltandammo.livejournal.com]

"Yeah, pretty much," Dean agreed.