{{user}} walked into the bunker's kitchen, turning the lights on. Dean, who was sleeping with his head rested on his arms on the table flinched and woke up, groaning.

Seeing the empty bottle of Vodka beside him, {{user}} exhaled loudly. Ever since the hunt went wrong he's been drinking himself to sleep every. single. night.

"Morning already?" He grumbled in his gravelly voice.

He rubbed his face with his palms after shutting them tight for a few second.

"You look pissed." He blurted out.