Just Your Typical Friday Night Crowd

Reggie never felt that gun, but he had felt like his words hit home with Dean. Good. Smug bastard deserves to know what he's done. As soon as Dean backed off, despite every broken, bleeding bone in his body telling him not to, Reggie lunged again when Dean got the surprise punch. He let out a yelp at the sudden twist of his arm and bit off an unmanly sound after it. Thing is: He completely believes that Dean is not bluffing. He shook his head, wanting to struggling, but finding that only made it hurt worse. As soon as he was released, he took off to find Tim, completely bailing on Robert.

The height of the action in the bar was less as people were knocked out one by one. There were police sirens wailing in the distance.

Torrid stood leaned up against the wall of the building, watching as Tim and Reggie hobbled to their car. As they peeled out of there, he caught eye contact with Reggie in the window and smiled. He knew Sam and Dean would be trying to get out of there as soon as possible, and the only person who hadn't wronged them? Good old greenie here, looking scared like a lost puppy with no where to go. When he sees them come out, his voice jitters as he asks, "Are you guys okay?"

Torrid couldn't just hear the cops ransacking the place. He could smell the sweat and the liquor from inside, and that was under the overbearing scent of blood on Dean's knuckles. He knew that they were uninjured, Sam amazingly so, actually. But he'd ask anyway. He knew immediately from Dean's shortness he would get exactly no-where with him, and cast him a nervous smile nonetheless, like he was afraid to be attacked without warning. Instead, he appealed to Sam, casting him a sanguine smile, and a worried eye-gesture towards his brother. Is that guy okay?

He didn't say anything, because he knew speaking at all would be a bad idea. If he split from the Winchesters, he knew that Tim, Reggie, and Robert would attack him as soon as the latter woke up. Not that he's particularly scared of what they will do to him... well, Torrid's more afraid of what he will do to them. It would be easier to gain the Winchesters' trust before they find him, so if he's caught defending himself, he'll be in the right.

Torrid didn't really want to think about the reasons he didn't just run away. Go to Belize or something. Maybe it was because the Winchesters gave him a hope he'd tried so hard to shed for so long. A hope of maybe, one day, reuniting with the people who actually gave his life meaning.

So he appealed to Sam with a final glance, then looked away as if too nervous to keep eye contact.

Torrid got Sam's message back, and non-responded neutrally because, yeah, it wouldn't seem like much of Torrid's business from their point of view. It seems he'd miscalculated, because to his surprise, Dean was actually the one to talk to him first. "Huh? I-I'm just..." He cleared his throat, trying to look as unimposing as possible as he adjusted his suddenly-too-tight grey shirt. He suddenly shifted to nervous nonchalance, "Nahh... I'm good. Uh, those guys were just my ride, so now I'm just... here. Not very good at picking friends, am I?" He laughed humorlessly, scratching his hair. No, he was really more debating whether or not he should ask for an autograph right now, but that would be bad. Not meeting either of their eyes, he sank to sit against the wall, drinking from the pilfered bottle of booze. He stared at it, then offered Dean the bottle. "Wanna sanitize with this?" He gestured at Dean's hands with the open top.

He had an idea. Damn would it be risky, and misreading Dean right now could prove to be very, very bad. He opened his mouth to say something, then closed it.

But then the only thing that could make this riskier is having Robert throw a wrench in it. He could wake up any moment now, and would probably ditch the EMTs. "Guys? You're Sam and Dean Winchester, right? They say you hunt monsters?" His voice was timid, unimposing, quiet. He glanced back at the door, as if afraid of it opening. "My name's not Greenie, it's Torrid. I can't talk about it here, but... I know a few. I could use your help." His eyes were pleading, and this time he actually appealed to Dean directly.

Sure is a chatty one, isn't he? Dean really does not trust him, and Torrid can feel it. Okay, what had Torrid done to deserve that? Honestly. Uncalled for. Even still, he accepted the bottle, capped it, and got to his feet to make a calm getaway. The cops only chase people who run, every college kid worth their two cents knows that. They let him take the lead, and he would have walked right to the impala, but that's ridiculously suspicious. So, he walked in the opposite direction of the bar, covertly sniffing the air. Water was about a mile or two away. Lakes are always solid body-hiding options.

It was dark, and this stretch of road was mostly deserted, giving Torrid room to talk. There was that thing where he didn't want to walk behind, in front of, or between the other two guys, but he fought that awkward tenseness. "So... I don't know what happened between you and those guys back there," but I think I read about it, he didn't say, "But... I get the sense you know they're not good guys. Or, at least, anymore?" He amended, gauging their reactions. "Those guys, I'm pretty sure they're gonna kill me. The way Robert was talking to me..." He raked a hand through his hair. "Nothing concrete, you know? But those guys are ruthless, and they think I'm this... spectral dog thing. I'm not." Technically, he isn't.

"I was gonna skip town, but, it looks like you guys can scare them where I can't." He stopped, searching for words. "Just... I bet you my left nut, as soon as you're both hidden, those three will come back and track me down. Could you just scare them off when they do?" Torrid knew this with very, very little doubt in his mind. The look in their eyes says 'not over.' "They've been following me for days."

Torrid shoved his hands in his pockets, looking a little embarrassed. Afraid of some guys who just got so embarrassingly walloped? Who were clearly injured? "Ah... you're right. I'm just being paranoid," he grin-grimaced. "Um... I'm sorry I wasted your time." He blinked, suddenly realizing that Dean had spoken. "Eh... Away from the bar was my goal."

The hellhound's mind whirled, thinking through every scenario. They weren't thinking about Robert. He was the only one truly dedicated to finding the 'summabitch'. And he'd already found him. Torrid found himself in a weird place, not wanting to split from the Winchesters because they knew more about Heaven and Hell than anyone. But if they leave now, he can kill the hunters without interruption. But then... well, he doesn't really wanna think about what happens when he does that. He unconsciously adjusted the strap to his scabbard across his chest, disappearing under his leather jacket.

"You guys go on ahead. Uh..." Torrid was actually, genuinely struggling with himself at this point. He should just let them go and then leave the state altogether. Yeah, that's logical. That's self-sufficient thinking, Torrid. Clinging to them, and some wild hope they can help you can get you killed, by the very people who gave you hope in the first place! But Torrid bit his lip, knowing he'd fight them again sooner or later, and changed topics. "Hey, Dean? I know I don't know you but... What Reggie said to you was wrong and he's a dick for thinking it." Totally glossing over how Torrid heard that exchange at all, or how he knew Reggie was wrong, he gave a little wave and turned to continue down the stretch of empty road.