You had gone outside for a smoke about an hour ago, and something tells me that things are deeply wrong.

I exit the motel room and see you sitting on a bench outside the entrance with a cigarette in hand, staring out at the parking lot with cold eyes. I approach with an angry, but more so concerned expression.

“Alright, what the hells happening? You and Dean have been arguing all day, you’re being cold to eachother and now you won’t even stay in the room with us.” I say without hesitation.