Dean gave the guard an impish grin. The corners of the woman's mouth twitched, but the rest of her face remained stony.
No worries. Witch or not, no woman born could resist him forever.
He did have a deadline, though. Sooner or later they'd change the guard and, judging by the extreme gender bias of the group, the new guard would probably be male and less susceptible to Dean's charms.
As if in answer to his thoughts, the iron door creaked open and a short, stocky man entered. Face expressionless, Dean watched as the woman left with one last glance at her prisoner and the newcomer took up her position.
Cell empty but for the two of them, the man's gaze raked up and down Dean's lean body, eyes hot and lips curved in an unmistakable leer.
Never slow to catch on, Dean slouched back against the wall, the chains 'round his wrists jangling. "Any chance of some water?" he said throatily.
The man chuckled and sauntered over. "Sure." He dangled a water bottle teasingly in front of Dean. "You up for a party, pretty?"
Dean smiled at him, green eyes full of sultry promises he would never keep.
"Always."