[Dean grins, nodding in agreement to Cas' rules for their game. For the first time in a long time, he lets himself relax; he lets himself soak up the atmosphere of the bar, instead of constantly looking over his shoulder between drinks, trying to keep himself prepared and alert for whatever attack Hell has planned for them all next.

He arches an eyebrow as Cas hands him the black darts and keeps the blue ones for himself. Fitting, he thinks. And he vocalizes this, too, to Cas, in the next moment.]

Blue for your eyes, huh?

[He takes another sip of beer, actually drinking slowly enough to enjoy it, for once.]

No, not at all, actually. This is just a lull in between attacks. Unlike our Hell, this place actually sometimes gives people a break in between all the fucked up shit it pulls.

[At the question, Dean tilts his head. It's a good one, he realizes, just as he also realizes he doesn't actually know. He chuckles.]

You know what? I don't actually know. Let's just say the numbers closest to the middle?