"Damn it!"
Dean's leaning over Sam's shoulder instantly. "What's wrong, Sam?"
"I've only got a dollar-fifty and I need another dollar to get a Coke." Sam's staring at the coins in his palm like four quarters, three dimes and four nickels are going to multiply if he threatens them enough.
Dean snorts and Sam stares at him in consideration.
"Dude, what?"
"Wait here."
"Where are you going?"
"Inside."
"It's a bar, Sam."
"Bars sell soda."
"Not for a dollar-fifty."
Sam's fist connects, dropping his brother unconscious at his feet. "I'm sure someone in there'll give me a dollar for you."