Dean Winchester had been sent to the 1940s by the god Chronos, and he’d found the Eliot Ness, with his friend Ezra Moore, who tailored him a new suit so he wouldn’t look like a ‘bindlestiff’. He looked handsome, to say the least.

He felt himself up in the body-height mirror, taking in the side parting, tie, suit jacket, fedora and lastly the brown suspenders underneath.

He had been told that another of Ness’ associates would be coming to help him on the hunt for Chronos, and he was told that custom was to greet a lady with a kiss on her knuckle.

He could get behind that.

He saw a woman his age enter the tailor’s shop, wearing a bias-cut, sensible navy blue dress, with stockings and heels. Her hands were clad in elegant, light blue gloves, and she wore a smile that said that she knew she was worth a million dollars.

Oh, he could definitely get behind all this.

“Ma’am.” Dean took her hand, lifting it to his lips as he bowed partway, brushing a kiss tantalisingly to her knuckle. “And you are?”

He couldn’t help but check her out. Despite acting like a man from the forties, he was still from 2012. And that meant he’d check out this gorgeous lady with a smirk and a quirk of his eyebrow gracing his irresistible features.