[ The trip is silent. Dean doesn't even turn on the radio, because they play some new century crap and never touch on classic rock anywhere that he's found so far - it's like freaking Beethoven or something now to these people. He hasn't gotten his hands on any MP3s yet either, nothing he's been able to harvest from the cloud - he hasn't put a hell of a lot of work into it yet, though. It's a problem to solve another day.
He drives with one hand on the wheel gripping almost too hard, the other elbow propped up where door meets window so he can effortlessly rest his hand around his mouth while he thinks.
It's tense, but he's doubting Jack's noticed that yet. They're gonna have to sit down and hash out some new rules here that Jack has to follow, something rigid to keep him from stirring shit in a city Dean doesn't know well enough to keep him safe in. The way things are here, how rigid the legal system is, it's all still a big gaping black hole that he can't navigate. He hasn't even felt comfortable throwing on a suit and making a fake badge yet, and all his hustling's been done in the underbelly where everything feels grimy and bacteria-riddled.
He's been thinking about going straight, getting a job at an auto body place. Engines have changed but the overall framework hasn't. He can still weld just fine, he can pop out dents and buff out scratches and return things to their original glory in a way he can't do with people.
(With Jack.)
He can channel his need to fix and restore and repair into that. If they wanna get a decent place, though, Jack's gonna need to get a job - one that doesn't involve a lot of... moral decisions.
His mind's still wrapped up in that when they pull into the drive-in window of some future taco bullshit place, and he orders them a couple of soy tofu blend something or anothers with enough cheese to drown out the fact that the meat ain't meat. He pays with brain credits, and as he pulls away he passes the bags over wordlessly for Jack to hold.
Groceries are another thing he hasn't done very well at yet. He just can't resign himself to buying fake meat and bugs. That'd be a bullet that Sam would bite and gently encourage him into, but there's no Sam here. ]
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He drives with one hand on the wheel gripping almost too hard, the other elbow propped up where door meets window so he can effortlessly rest his hand around his mouth while he thinks.
It's tense, but he's doubting Jack's noticed that yet. They're gonna have to sit down and hash out some new rules here that Jack has to follow, something rigid to keep him from stirring shit in a city Dean doesn't know well enough to keep him safe in. The way things are here, how rigid the legal system is, it's all still a big gaping black hole that he can't navigate. He hasn't even felt comfortable throwing on a suit and making a fake badge yet, and all his hustling's been done in the underbelly where everything feels grimy and bacteria-riddled.
He's been thinking about going straight, getting a job at an auto body place. Engines have changed but the overall framework hasn't. He can still weld just fine, he can pop out dents and buff out scratches and return things to their original glory in a way he can't do with people.
(With Jack.)
He can channel his need to fix and restore and repair into that. If they wanna get a decent place, though, Jack's gonna need to get a job - one that doesn't involve a lot of... moral decisions.
His mind's still wrapped up in that when they pull into the drive-in window of some future taco bullshit place, and he orders them a couple of soy tofu blend something or anothers with enough cheese to drown out the fact that the meat ain't meat. He pays with brain credits, and as he pulls away he passes the bags over wordlessly for Jack to hold.
Groceries are another thing he hasn't done very well at yet. He just can't resign himself to buying fake meat and bugs. That'd be a bullet that Sam would bite and gently encourage him into, but there's no Sam here. ]