[ Dean rolls up in the world's shittiest hover car. That's right, hover car. Don't @ him, he feels absolutely disgusting in it - it's somehow an affront to cars in general, frankly, and it feels like cheating to be driving one.
Now's not the time to bitch about that, though, and Jack probably isn't the right audience for it.
The hover-jalopy putters to a stop along the curb across the street, and a couple of tense seconds later Dean slides out of the driver's seat to cross stiffly toward the bench housing his not-son. His face is a careful mask, closed off and guarded, surveying the kid from yards away as he approaches.
You never know what you're gonna get with a soulless person.
He speaks first, flat and toneless. ]
How long you been here?
[ And immediately after, without giving him time to respond: ]
no subject
Now's not the time to bitch about that, though, and Jack probably isn't the right audience for it.
The hover-jalopy putters to a stop along the curb across the street, and a couple of tense seconds later Dean slides out of the driver's seat to cross stiffly toward the bench housing his not-son. His face is a careful mask, closed off and guarded, surveying the kid from yards away as he approaches.
You never know what you're gonna get with a soulless person.
He speaks first, flat and toneless. ]
How long you been here?
[ And immediately after, without giving him time to respond: ]
When's the last time you ate?