"Dude, you are so gonna pay for this!"
"Stop threatening me, Dean. It's not my fault the freaking ghost is haunting a tennis club!"
:
"Yeah, but we could've come in as FBI men, not like this!"
Dean gazed down at his outfit, white shorts, short-sleeved top and a club cap topping off the ensemble!
:
"The members'll talk more freely to other players than to cops," Sam explained with a huffy eye-roll.
"I swore I'd never be seen dead in shorts again, " Dean growled. "Cosmic catastrophes will ensue now that I've broken my vow! And it's all your fault, Sammy."
:
He whacked his brother on the ass with the racquet.
"Game, set and match to me, bitch!"