Dean matched Meg's glare, but he looked a little miffed when he saw just how much she drank - it was definitely necessary for what he was about to do, but he was a little jealous that he couldn't have even a sip without getting sick. He respected that she could hold her own, though - demon or not, trapped in a little body like that, the stuff hit hard.
"Yeah, yeah, don't get your panties in a twist," Dean muttered with a roll of his eyes when he was prompted to get the show on the road.
He changed the angle he was standing at so Cas could get a closer look when his friend's interest was obvious. Sometimes Dean forgot that his friend wasn't just a guy in a trenchcoat who had no knowledge of the finer things in life, but Cas's reactions in times like these threw that out the window. Anyone could tell that he wanted to learn how to help as best he could in situations like these so he'd be prepared in the future. Angel or not, Cas was a soldier.
Dean pressed Meg's shoulder down onto the bed so that she was laying on her back so he could more easily remove the bullets. The hunter clinically cut away at her shirt without further taunting, focusing on the task at hand. Removing bullets wasn't the hardest thing he'd ever done, but it required a good amount of concentration.
"That much at once'd prolly give a normal person alcohol poisoning," he explained easily as he worked, unsure of just how much the former angel already knew. "She can handle it, but be careful if it's anyone else. The second one's for disinfectant as we go. Wounds like this get infected easy." The only warning Meg had was a look as Dean opened the bottle and promptly drizzled whiskey on the bullet wounds. The rag he'd used to clean the penknife earlier was then used to mop up some of the blood that was already starting to dry sticky on her. Once he'd done what was immediately necessary, he raised both eyebrows at Cas in an unspoken question, holding up the bloody rag and alcohol.
Then came the task of extracting the bullets with the penknife. "Bleeding's just gonna get worse before it gets better, and it's gonna hurt," he warned. "Get ready to hold her down."
He was nice enough to give Meg more warning this time - even if it was just a nod and a "here we go" - before he began to dig into the first bullet hole to retrieve the bullet. At first he continued to explain what he could as normal, but soon he was just gritting his teeth as he attempted to dig the bullet out.
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"Yeah, yeah, don't get your panties in a twist," Dean muttered with a roll of his eyes when he was prompted to get the show on the road.
He changed the angle he was standing at so Cas could get a closer look when his friend's interest was obvious. Sometimes Dean forgot that his friend wasn't just a guy in a trenchcoat who had no knowledge of the finer things in life, but Cas's reactions in times like these threw that out the window. Anyone could tell that he wanted to learn how to help as best he could in situations like these so he'd be prepared in the future. Angel or not, Cas was a soldier.
Dean pressed Meg's shoulder down onto the bed so that she was laying on her back so he could more easily remove the bullets. The hunter clinically cut away at her shirt without further taunting, focusing on the task at hand. Removing bullets wasn't the hardest thing he'd ever done, but it required a good amount of concentration.
"That much at once'd prolly give a normal person alcohol poisoning," he explained easily as he worked, unsure of just how much the former angel already knew. "She can handle it, but be careful if it's anyone else. The second one's for disinfectant as we go. Wounds like this get infected easy." The only warning Meg had was a look as Dean opened the bottle and promptly drizzled whiskey on the bullet wounds. The rag he'd used to clean the penknife earlier was then used to mop up some of the blood that was already starting to dry sticky on her. Once he'd done what was immediately necessary, he raised both eyebrows at Cas in an unspoken question, holding up the bloody rag and alcohol.
Then came the task of extracting the bullets with the penknife. "Bleeding's just gonna get worse before it gets better, and it's gonna hurt," he warned. "Get ready to hold her down."
He was nice enough to give Meg more warning this time - even if it was just a nod and a "here we go" - before he began to dig into the first bullet hole to retrieve the bullet. At first he continued to explain what he could as normal, but soon he was just gritting his teeth as he attempted to dig the bullet out.