[ and so the handshake wears on, castiel utterly oblivious to the awkwardness it generates. ]
Does the President use Coach?
[ it's an odd picture in his mind, and cas reflexively glances to the side at the various matches at identical tables, like he might spot Mr. Joseph Robinette Biden sampling some crème brûlée with the first lady (or whoever is president in this virtual reality).
Suffice to say, the leader of the free world is not present tonight, and Cas turns to the conversation realizing he's held dean's hand hostage for far too long. ]
Oh. [ his hand jerks back, an overcorrection ] No, of course not. Your appendages are your own.
[ sheepish nod, and he only looks lost for a moment before taking his seat back— or tries to, as a waiter zips in to slide two entrees onto the table. Castiel nearly trips over the speedy server, but manages to stay upright, just delayed in getting back to his place. apparently ordering is a non-issue. ]
A pleasure to meet you, Dean. [ a blink down to the sudden onset dinner plate in front of his date for the night, ] Is that actually what you were hoping to order?
Is he being punk'd? Is this like a candid camera skit, or...?
Everything that's coming out of this dude's mouth is a different shade of wackadoo — admittedly, it might be a tiny little bit endearing. Might be.
The plates arrive. They sit. Dean flickers an assessing gaze over the guy, the guy's plate, then finally glances down at his own. It's a freaking plate full of- what are those, shells? Bluntly, after a long moment, he announces: )
I have literally no idea what I'm looking at.
( It's escargot. He's never seen escargot before right now. )
[ this is what you will be dating for the next however the fuck long the dating alexa decides, enjoy.
leaning over to examine dean's shells, cas frowns, his nose wrinkling a bit, before he settles on an unpleasant answer. ]
Snails, I believe.
[ sorry, friend. either coach has deemed dean's dinner isn't meant to be enjoyed tonight, or thought he needed to try something new. cas doubts those options are appealing to his date, so he glances down at his own entree - a huge steak and a pile of vegetables. ]
Would you like some of mine? I won't finish it all.
[ he's more interested in the veggie side of it, and Cas is already sawing off a majority cut of the steak for him, waving a hand for dean to slide his plate over. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no worries at all my homie, forgive my slowness
Does the President use Coach?
[ it's an odd picture in his mind, and cas reflexively glances to the side at the various matches at identical tables, like he might spot Mr. Joseph Robinette Biden sampling some crème brûlée with the first lady (or whoever is president in this virtual reality).
Suffice to say, the leader of the free world is not present tonight, and Cas turns to the conversation realizing he's held dean's hand hostage for far too long. ]
Oh. [ his hand jerks back, an overcorrection ] No, of course not. Your appendages are your own.
[ sheepish nod, and he only looks lost for a moment before taking his seat back— or tries to, as a waiter zips in to slide two entrees onto the table. Castiel nearly trips over the speedy server, but manages to stay upright, just delayed in getting back to his place. apparently ordering is a non-issue. ]
A pleasure to meet you, Dean. [ a blink down to the sudden onset dinner plate in front of his date for the night, ] Is that actually what you were hoping to order?
we will slowly orbit each other it destiny
whiteguyblinking.gif
Is he being punk'd? Is this like a candid camera skit, or...?
Everything that's coming out of this dude's mouth is a different shade of wackadoo — admittedly, it might be a tiny little bit endearing. Might be.
The plates arrive. They sit. Dean flickers an assessing gaze over the guy, the guy's plate, then finally glances down at his own. It's a freaking plate full of- what are those, shells? Bluntly, after a long moment, he announces: )
I have literally no idea what I'm looking at.
( It's escargot. He's never seen escargot before right now. )
so it is written so it shall be
leaning over to examine dean's shells, cas frowns, his nose wrinkling a bit, before he settles on an unpleasant answer. ]
Snails, I believe.
[ sorry, friend. either coach has deemed dean's dinner isn't meant to be enjoyed tonight, or thought he needed to try something new. cas doubts those options are appealing to his date, so he glances down at his own entree - a huge steak and a pile of vegetables. ]
Would you like some of mine? I won't finish it all.
[ he's more interested in the veggie side of it, and Cas is already sawing off a majority cut of the steak for him, waving a hand for dean to slide his plate over. ]