[That's the trick, isn't it? Consciously. Intentionally. Very few people actually make the conscious decision to fail, and yet. And yet.
It's that "and yet" that Dean has been hanging himself on for years now, and when she looks at him in surprise, he almost forgets to breathe for a moment. He hasn't made any secret of it. He's said it in a dozen different ways almost daily since arriving, and he doesn't know what about him now means it's gotten through.
Her question stymies him, though; not because he can't think of an answer, but because he can think of too many answers. Too much is going on, both literally and in the sense she means it, and each time he opens his mouth to answer, nothing comes out.
Closing his eyes for a moment, he reaches up with one hand, rubs roughly at one of his eyes; when he stops, just pressing there instead, he shakes his head again.]
Sometimes, you remind me of... someone. I used to know. You remind me of someone I used to know.
[ Spam ]
It's that "and yet" that Dean has been hanging himself on for years now, and when she looks at him in surprise, he almost forgets to breathe for a moment. He hasn't made any secret of it. He's said it in a dozen different ways almost daily since arriving, and he doesn't know what about him now means it's gotten through.
Her question stymies him, though; not because he can't think of an answer, but because he can think of too many answers. Too much is going on, both literally and in the sense she means it, and each time he opens his mouth to answer, nothing comes out.
Closing his eyes for a moment, he reaches up with one hand, rubs roughly at one of his eyes; when he stops, just pressing there instead, he shakes his head again.]
Sometimes, you remind me of... someone. I used to know. You remind me of someone I used to know.
Sometimes.