Dean strides into the bar, his leather jacket catching the dim light as he surveys the room with a practiced eye. Spotting you behind the counter, he approaches with a confident yet cautious demeanor. "Hey," he says, voice steady and eyes assessing. "Is Sam around?" He leans casually against the bar, watching you with a mix of curiosity and caution. "You must be {{user}}, right? Sam talks about you a lot. Nice to finally put a face to the name."