[QT] 03.08 - Good Luck. You're going to need it.

The hell did Han Solo know about Good Luck? The man ended up trapped in carbonite, and don't look at me like that, cause I freaking am Han Solo on the days I'm not Batman. It doesn't change the fact that he got betrayed by Lando, turned into Vadar by Boba Fett and then handed over like a freaking trophy to the damn bounty hunter after he was encased. Like hey thanks for the tip here's a lovely parting gift. Fuckin' bounty hunters.

Yeah yeah I see the irony of it all too. I'm not a freaking moron here. I know that the whole thing just echoes to the shit I'm in right now. Though I'm guessing? Put my ass in carbonite and that deed to my soul sort of goes up in the air for a bit. I am not doing that whole mid-scream shit either. Dean Winchester getting frozen in carbonite will look like he is expecting to be placed in that Princess Leia chicks room on the Millennium Falcon. Don't you dare think Han is letting the chick drive the damn thing while he's all encased either. It's parked and it's staying put. Luke can think about it but not even his Jedi tricks will be able to get the keys out of my pocket... you know in the carbonite.

So I'd be in the carbonite, looking damn hot - so Leia doesn't forget - and the contract for my soul is invalidated or some shit. Of course I know I know, Leia comes in and saves his ass, but come on. Who the hell am I gonna trust to actually pull my ass out of suspended animation? Jo? Ruby? Give me a break. They'd both stand there and yell at my frozen self for being dumb enough to get caught. I'd be a freaking fish on the wall for Ruby I bet, and well Jo... I won't even go there.

Nah, I need a new Leia, and forget confessing feelings before I get frozen. I want some good full frontal nudity. So I need a curvy Leia not shy of stripping down at the drop of a hat, and one that won't bitch at my carbonite frozen body, but will have wild fantasies about what she could do with me when I finally was unfrozen. Then on that fateful day when she's just gotten out of a bubble bath and still has that little film of soap on her body... her foot presses that button that saved Han and now has dropped me onto her nubile form.

Oh and I'm not all lagged from it either. You kidding me? Dean Winchester bounces back fast. Carbonite to velvety smooth in under thirty seconds.

[WaM!] 009 - I sold my soul.

Drowning his sorrows wasn't usually his deal. No real reason to, mostly because for him his sorrows were already so buried that flooding them with alcohol might just run the risk of them rising up to the surface. Instead Dean drank just to drink. Hunched over arms folded across the bar, with his fingers tracing the edge of the label on the bottle of beer. His days were counting down too, it would be the third time he either died, or was supposed to die too. All jokes about the third time being a charm were mostly lost on him. He caught the dark hair and leather jacket take up the stool beside him out of the corner of his eye. He was half expecting Sammy to come haul his ass back out to try some weird ritual where he had to hold an eagle feather while turning ten times counter clock wise and chanting some weird HooDoo ritual. Not that he wasn't above that sort of effort, it just didn't feel like something to do drunk.

No... maybe that was the perfect time to do that. Regardless of that train of thought Dean shifted in the stool a bit and glanced up to the girl. She looked familiar, in an uncanny sort of way, and most of the women Dean remembered weren't the type to have 'just one of those faces' in fact he was pretty damn sure that he avoided that very type for that exact reason. Dean watched her hand go to grab her wallet out of her back pocket, and had to muse to himself about her not having a purse, but the thought was lost when he saw her gun holstered right beside a pair of cuffs, and the badge attached at her hip didn't help either.

His entire body tensed up and his hand, once idle and picking at the label had dropped to his backside his finger brushing up against his own gun tucked into the back of his jeans. His jacket covered the action as the woman... scratch that cop, pulled her hair away from her face and caught him staring at her a bit. That was when he recognized her. Older sure, probably higher up on the ranks for her to be toting around a look like she was a detective now instead of a traffic stop cop. Of course the fact that somehow the actual memory of being in this town almost a year ago... before the deal was struck hadn't even phased him.

She was trying to figure him out and the slight smirk and shoulder shrug apparently wasn't something she was buying at the moment as her gaze narrowed trying to figure out where she knew him from. His hand released off the gun at his back and went back to grab his beer, "I just have one of those faces... trust me."

She shook her head at him, "I really doubt that, because it would've been extremely difficult to avoid being considered dead with that face."

Stupid FBI press releases, and wire news feeds, and pretty much anything and everything that ever put their face out there when they announced the names of the dead from the explosion. She knew him from the release which was bad, but not from the prior traffic stop when he was Bill Clarke... dead from Memphis. What was with it and him being dead around this cop all the time?

"I pulled you over didn't I?"

There went that theory that she'd forgotten him from before. Right out the window. Dean kept silent though, mostly because it was a lot hotter to watch her brain work out all the details. The fire in her eyes as all the memories of his smug attitude flicker back to the surface.

"Bill Clarke. Dead, again with the dead for you... it's a theme I see?"

"More than a theme and in a few months it'll be my default setting so... let's not even go there," he replied wondering when the hell she was going to arrest him, or turn him in or anything other than have a little chat.

"Touchy subject? Death? I'd say for a man who died in an explosion a few months ago seem to look pretty good."

He didn't miss the raise of her eyebrow at the remark of his looks, and the smug smirk that followed he would swear was just a natural reaction, some sort of Pavlovian response. Girl raises eyebrow leads to Dean Winchester Charming Smile, all rights reserved patent pending. Licking his lips a moment before he drew another sip from his beer, because if she wasn't going to haul his ass in he at least was going to finish his beer. Setting it back down he regarded her for a moment and figured if she didn't believe him she'd just pan it off as the ramblings of a drunk guy she didn't arrest back when the Wicker Estate went up in flames. Of course he could mention that the reason the whole city didn't burn to the ground that night was because him and Sam had managed to kill the ugly son of a bitch that was torching them all in effigy for his loss of his queen.

"Touchy year more like. Month after I was here in town? Sold my soul to bring my brother back to life. Great story really. Hell of a demon trying to make my brother into some great leader for a war, put him into a 'to the death' sort of fight. He died. Took too long. Didn't act like they thought he would. Knife to the back and I was wrecked. Took me a few hours to get off my ass and stop feeling sorry for myself. Went to the closest crossroads, made the deal, Sammy came back and I got a year." Dean finished it off with a swallow of his beer, and figured she'd walk away or toss him in the drunk tank... did this town even have a trunk tank?

Instead she just stared at him. Not even a flicker of sympathy, but there wasn't doubt either. Maybe she was over thinking, or trying to figure out what his angle was, but he didn't even care at that point. He waved to the bartender who was showing him another beer and soon the empty was replaced with a new one and he took a long swallow from that, nearly taking half the contents in one upward motion.

"So... just a few months left and you're in a bar... drinking? Not out there jumping off cliffs and seeing the world?"

Dean raised an eyebrow, "I'm not dying of cancer. I'm just... going to hell. Pretty damn sure no amount of thrill rides is going to top that sort of a blaze of glory. Besides, the company at the bar is pretty good."

She smiled at him and nodded, "Well I won't argue there."