"WHAT THE HELL DO YOU MEAN" Dean's voice boomed loud enough that he felt his aching back flex.
"Sorry deano, I don't take too kindly to threats. Ipso facto, I can't help you."
"You son of a B-"
"Can't or won't do anything?" Baby Bro stepped foreword to cut Dean off. Dean flipped out bitchface number 35. He was pissed and these things were gigantic. And pink.
"Hmmmm...Ill let you know." And with a snap, was gone. A distinct jingling was heard as Dean, definitely NOT pouting , tried to balance himself.
"Hes fucking dead."
