The sky above the port was the color of television, tuned to a dead channel. Dean Winchester, an attractive green-eyed man dressed in a black work suit, walked quickly into a beaten-down building beside the dock. The sign outside read "Cas' Crabs". Below the text on the sign, somebody had scratched into the wood "and cocaine".
Dean could not help but feel apprehensive of his situation. This place deemed dead enough, but then again, that's where the monsters like to hide anyways.
He approached the counter inside the store. Not 10 feet in front of him was a massive tank filed with murky brown water. At the bottom was a congealed mass of writhing crabs – some alive, others not so much.
There was a bell on the counter, a fairly new one. It shone proudly and stood rather out of place in the otherwise worn-down building. Dean pushed the button on the top down, causing the bell to emit a rather loud ding! A shuffling of paper and the creaking of wood under one's feet in the back room of the store was the response that Dean received.
Dean's hand hovered above the button on the bell, poised to ring it again, when a man appeared from the back room. His black hair was tousled and the smallest amount of facial hair was visible on his chin. He was shorter than Dean, but not by much – he had a strong physique with relatively prominent biceps. Rubbing his face, he approached the counter, glancing at dean through his fingers – his eyes were a beautiful, striking shade of blue. "Can I help you?" he asked tiredly, his voice gravely and deep.
Dean suspected he had woken the man up from an afternoon nap.
Clearing his throat, Dean answered, "Yes. I'm here for a," he paused, reading a name written on the palm of his hand, "Castiel?" Dean hoped he hadn't mispronounced the name.
"That's me." The dark-haired man replied. His voice offered an air of inquisitiveness. Something inside of Dean lifted as he responded to Castiel – there was a strange draw to this man that he didn't fully understand. Maybe it was something he'd eaten for lunch.