[Dean laughs again, letting his head fall back as he does so. He feels warm and content, sitting with Cas like this. There's a sense of normalcy and domesticity that reminds him of nights spent at the Bunker, sharing a glass of whiskey with the angel. He takes comfort in the familiarity.]
You know, I was just thinking that. If this is supposed to be Hell, where are all the clowns?
[And the snakes, for that matter, he thinks. If Hell was supposed to play on all of your darkest fears (this Hell, at least), Dean thinks he would have wound up in a pit of snakes by now.]
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You know, I was just thinking that. If this is supposed to be Hell, where are all the clowns?
[And the snakes, for that matter, he thinks. If Hell was supposed to play on all of your darkest fears (this Hell, at least), Dean thinks he would have wound up in a pit of snakes by now.]