[The device turns on to catch exactly what you see above: Dean Winchester, removing his shirt. Why is he taking it off? Can you see the look on his face? It isn't laundry day inspiring him to strip.

Is there mistletoe over his head? It's hard to tell. Does it matter? Do you need a piece of greenery as an excuse to kiss this man?

Of course, Dean doesn't realize he is being watched.]

[Some diligent student is studying in Hogwart's library, though whether this Dean Winchester is any more attentive to schoolwork than his regular self was at this age is uncertain. It's a good thing he has a good memory and can improvise well. That and he's notorious for protecting the younger kids from bullies and thus has all sorts of... unusual spells up his sleeve, thanks to his father, who is well-known for fighting evil.

He isn't on the Quidditch team, but he loves the game. Place your bets?

He's easily distracted, so give him a poke, if you like.

Oh, yes: and he's British now, complete with accent. I've no idea why. It just happened.]


[OOC: Gryffindor Teen Dean Winchester will reply with the journal wildthing67]

[The feed comes on just as something whizzes through the window of a living room. And here is Dean, looking confused. This state happens more often than he'd like in this place, but a hat that looks suspiciously like a witches hat has just leapt on his head and debated as to which house he belonged. Then it yelled out -]

Gryffindor!!!

[ - and whooshed out his window. He had pulled his gun from the back of his wasitband when it landed on his head and takes a shot at it as it leaves.]

What the hell?

[Then he realizes his device is transmitting and he addresses it, looking ticked.]

Okay, what is a 'Gryffindor'? For that matter, what the hell is a 'Slytherin'?

[There is a man sitting in the driver's seat of a car. He is checking a handgun and there are signs of other weapons on the passenger seat, where the device is also resting. He addresses the device while constantly looking up to scan for hostiles.]

Okay, I think this thing is on.

For those who don't know me from a hole in the ground, I'm Dean. We've got freaky shit like this back home. I'm not the only one providing a public service announcement, but just to reinforce what a girl named Julie posted earlier...

If you can, stay out of it. Lock and secure doors, windows, block with furniture if you've got it. Where I come from, a headshot will take things like this out, but these things are different. You have to take them apart. They travel in groups and they're strong. Do not confront unless you know what the hell you're doin'', and even then, I wouldn't advise it.

I've got a car and can get to you fast. If you need help, just holler.

Okay, that's it. Let's get these sons of bitches.

[He reaches over and switches his device off.]

[This is Dean, sitting around being casual, medicated for the pain in his leg from his unfortunate landing in the City. He's just throwing out some random things.]




So. Not looking in any mirrors or other reflective surfaces. Got that message. Good thing I follow the network. It's like the social media of the City, without the hash tags.

Okay, next. I'm just checking, in case I've missed something.

Sam? Are you here, Sammy? Send up a flare if you are.

Okay. Has anyone seen a black Chevy Impala? No, you're not in trouble if you have. Yes, I'll kick your ass if it's damaged. No, I don't care if it wasn't you who did the damage, I'll be too pissed off.

[He sighs.]

Maybe I should've numbered these... In which case, this would be three... no, four...

Four. What was I gonna say? Oh, yeah. Does anyone here make pie? I'd love me some pie.

Uhhhhh... I think that's it. For now.

Need me some coffee...

[A device comes on line and it appears to be sitting on a table at a cafe, facing the street. It is late afternoon. A few people are milling about, taking care of business, meeting friends, heading home. After a brief pause, a man appears about fifteen feet off the ground, and, thanks to the laws of gravity, promptly plummets to the street, landing hard, face down.

The device, apparently wanting the capture the full reaction of the latest arrival in the City, zooms in on the figure as best it can as it lies there, face down, arms splayed out at the last minute to try and stop his head from hitting the ground. He is dressed casually in blue jeans, work boots, a tee and a worn, leather jacket. His hair is brown and cut short and neat. He looks up, body tense, eyes narrowing at his surroundings, and tries to stand.

Pain shoots through his left leg, but he barely makes a sound and manages to shift to an awkward seated position, shortly followed, with the help of a chair, to an awkward standing position. He's a handsome man, with appealing features and an athletic build, but to say he currently looks confused, concerned and just a little pissed off would be an understatement. He is obviously looking for someone. When he speaks, his voice is deeper than his apparent age might suggest.]

Nonononono... Sam? Sam? Sammy!