"Well... This is a nice change of scenery." Dean scoffed, clapping his hands once. "I was bored of the bunker's soft beds and not having to share a freakin' room with you."

Sam raised his eyebrows, throwing his arms in the air. "It's a prison cell, Dean!"

"I was being sarcastic!" Dean rolled his eyes. "Jesus..."

"Any other bright ideas, Mr. 'I've got a plan I'm sure's gonna work'?" The younger Winchester sassed back. "Just, please... Give something that actually helps? Thanks."

"You're supposed to be the brain!" Dean complained. "You think of something." He leaned his back against the wall, sliding down onto the cold floor.

Sam, sitting on the edge of the rough mattress of the cell's bunk bed replied, "I'm out of ideas." with a shake of his head.