Socks in a Dryer

Dean was in a fuck you mood, and the Stolichnaya wasn't helping. He drank from the bottle. He leaned against the wall and French inhaled through his best don't-even-fucking-look-at-me glare. He exhaled through a cracked smile. He pushed his sunglasses up his nose and thought, fuck you all. His forced shit-eating grin told everyone who saw it he knew more than them and, most likely, was up to no good...