Dean's made his way around, talked to people, did his civic duty of investigating and not getting caught.
But there's something about knowing hits bunk is his, even if he's sharing it with someone impressively irritating. So he's there with a bottle of liquor, frowning at it when the knock comes.
Huh. That's a first.
He gets up, pulls the damned thing open, and blinks.
Well, that wasn't Anthony. Diana blinked in surprise for a moment, her heavy eyelashes fluttering about her lavender eyes.
Of course. Duh! He would have a room mate! Just like she did.
Except he wasn't at all like Diana's scary-ass roomie. This was a...very attractive young man. Unfortunate haircut, but he had lovely eyes. Like one of those characters in a Japanese manga. She was ready for them to start sparkling with pixie dust or something.
"Oh," she said, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. "Hi there."
He's still holding his bottle of liquor when he's greeted with the presence of a pretty damn hot woman, and while he appreciates the view, he has no idea who she is or why she's here.
In any other situation, any other context, Diana would have had about a million witty replies. But, alas, such replies were meant for the club, a bar, the theatre, or pretty much anywhere that wasn't a super weird voyage of the damned cruise ship that no one remembered boarding.
"Well," she said, offering him a smile, "I was actually looking for Anthony. He told me this was his cabin, so you must be, like, his bunk mate, I'm guessing. Either that, or he lied to get away from me." Their meeting hadn't been without its awkwardness.
Diana's voice was aggressively West Coast. Almost like she'd studied the accent, perfected it. Like it was a second language and she wasn't a native Valley Girl. Because, of course, she wasn't. She had the natural lilt of a singer, though. Which went well with the guitar.
It was a whole vibe. One she'd spent a couple of decades perfecting.
She shrugged, hair sliding over her shoulder. "That would be great," she said. "I mean, I'd call him on this thingy," she held up the cell phone, "but I have no idea who's gonna be listening in, you know?" Also, she hadn't figured out how to work it yet. But mostly the first thing. You didn't survive as long as she had in the world of darkness without a healthy amount of paranoia. Besides, they'd been given the damn things by the ship. She assumed.
A pause. And then she slapped the heel of her palm against her head. "Merde! Manners! They're totally a thing! What's wrong with me today?"
You know, aside from being kidnapped and held hostage on a boat?
Diana offered Dean her hand. "I'm Diana. Diana Abel. A-B-E-L. As in 'Caine and dot, dot, dot...'" She always introduced herself like that, whether she wanted to or not. She was reasonably convinced that the Father had somehow programmed her for it. That was a thought she hid away in the darkest corners of her mind, though. Because...ew.
"Yeah, fair enough." It's probably best not to have a bunch of private conversations over whatever the hell these little things are, God only knows who's bugged it and listening in.
"Dean Winchester," he says, giving her hand a shake. "I'd say it's good to meet you, but the circumstances kinda suck."
"So very much agreed," she said, offering him her hand. It was a very shiny hand, a ring on almost every finger.
Diana knew that women these days were expected to have a firm handshake. It was all about leaning in and asserting authority and that stuff. Good stuff. Great stuff. But Arty had pounded it into her head again and again and again. A weak handshake was best. You never knew if there was a hunter around the corner. You never knew who would notice skin that was cool and a pulse that was missing.
Arty worried too much.
In all of her life, Diana was pretty sure she'd never shook hands with a hunter. But even if she did, it wasn't like she was some kind of murdering psycho.
Not really.
She flashed Dean a smile. "Is that an English name? Is your family British?"
"Ha, no, no. Not British at all." God, Sam would be even more insufferable if they were British. Like he's not hoity toity enough.
"I'm actually from Kansas, little town called Lawrence. Not many people have heard of it."
Small, quaint. Dean's been back a time or two after the fires, and it's still pretty much how he remembered it. It's always a strange feeling when he sets foot in that town. Good, bad. Indescribable.
"The Midwest!" Diana giggled. "Well, I'll try not to hold that against you too much. I'm a city girl!"
And how. Of course, given the fact that it took--at minimum--at least 160 people to sustain a single Cainite (or, at least one who didn't want to be all murdery), it only made sense that she gravitated to places like New York, Chicago, and Phoenix.
Stupid Phoenix.
"I'm from LA," she said. As if the accent didn't make that perfectly obvious. "Gimme that delicious traffic any day!"
He laughs, easing back a smidge before gestures like, come on in. Why stand in the tiny hall, at least inside she can sit on Crowley's bed.
"Yup, that's me. I've only been to LA once." And, okay - he'd completely geeked out about being there, loved every second of being a PA. "It was a lot, but I liked it. Couldn't imagine living there, though."
She stepped into the cabin, looking around. A lot like hers. Cramped and uncomfortable. On a normal ship, she suspected it was because no one ever wanted to actually spend time in their cabins. Too busy having fun, doing limbo contests and playing bingo.
Which was apparently Anthony's idea of torture.
"It takes a lot of getting used to. Living in LA. Def not for the feint of heart. Or weak of stomach. But if you know how to look, and you have the patience for it, you can find incredible beauty there."
Diana was only too happy to perch herself on the couch. Her body was used to certain motions. Pleasant conversation. Interacting with humans.
Flirting with cute guys.
It was nice to have a little slice of normal in an otherwise very, very unnatural set of circumstances.
"Well," she said. "I love the Urban Light installation at the Los Angeles County Museum of Art. I mean, it doesn't look like anything special during the day. Just a bunch of lamp posts. But at night?" Her eyes glittered. "It lights up the whole block, as if it's the middle of the day. You could think you were walking through some kind of Greek temple, with this magical glow from each of the columns. It's totes a fairy tale!"
"I...don't think I've heard of that, actually." He has to rack his brain, but it was a few years ago that he'd been. It sounds pretty cool, though something in him is cringing at the word 'totes'.
"We mostly just did a tour of one of the studios. My brother was bored, but I thought it was fun." And a case had actually been there, of course, but honestly that just made the whole experience that much better. Working onset? Meeting Tara? Hell yeah.
She loved sets. The fantasy and sci-fi ones were great, but it was the modern stuff that really got her. It was like a small opportunity to play make-believe, to live the life she should have known instead of the shitshow that was Cainite existence.
Diana could be Lucy Ricardo.
Or Abigail Adams.
Or anyone else who had a true love waiting for her.
"I've worked on a couple of movies," she said coyly. "Back in the day. I was the on-set musician for a hot second."
"Me too. Hellhazers II, the Reckoning. I wasn't in it, but I did a lot of PA work. It was kinda fun. They told me I was the best PA ever." Moooostly because he saved a bunch of collective asses, but. You know. Semantics.
"Hellhazers?" She wrinkled her nose, hoping to look more adorable than judgy. Although she was maybe a little bit judgy. "Sounds like one of those series? Horney teenagers who are punished for having sex? Except for one, cute, blond virgin who makes it all the way to the end?"
Yeah, she was familiar with slasher movies.
Mostly because her sister watched them to get a big laugh.
"Eh, yes and no. Lead is Tara, a brunette, and I actually ended up giving a lot of input to the director as to the final cuts. I think it ended up being rated the best in the series, actually."
Despite the director being privy to finally knowing what's out there and instead of doing anything helpful, he made bank on it, Dean was kinda proud their innovation ended up in the film.
Diana knew a lot of directors. And most of them had a little bit too much of an ego to take input from a PA. So either this was a unicorn, or Dean was trying to impress her.
Kind of a cute flex. Not one that Diana saw a lot.
"Well," she said, "brunettes are sexier." As she flipped her own brunette hair back, over her shoulder.
Unicorn, definitely. Dean's lost too many spoons being on this damn bota to
worry about impressing people. Then again, if it gets him cute points, who
is he to complain?
"I gotta agree with you," he says with a grin, chuckling a little when she
flips her hair. He does tend to have a weakness for people with
darker hair.
"Good." Glad they could agree on that, because they certainly didn't share similar taste in movies. Call her basic, she still thought Moulin Rouge was sexy. Sexy leads. Sexy songs. Sexy kissing.
*Moulin Rouge was definitely sexy, that they can agree on.
"Well...it's kind of a weird story. My brother went through something
pretty traumatic, so I dragged him to Hollywood for a vacation. We were on
a tour, and we just kinda...got off the cart and wandered on set."
There's more to it, stuff Dean doesn't necessarily want to get into.
Madison had smarted for them both, and when he tells people he's a hunter
and they were working on a ghost case, they tend not to believe him. And,
here, there's a whole lotta things he would've hunte back home, so it
doesn't particularly serve him or do him any favors to say 'oh yeah, we
hunted wolves and vamps and monsters!'.
Still, ghosts may be safe, so he adds;
"The set was actually haunted, legitimately. And we ended up taking care
of it."
She started to laugh at the idea of two bumpkins wandering off of the studio tour and ended up PAs. But just as she was starting to smile, he had to go and say the word 'haunted.'
Diana took ghosts extremely seriously. After what happened in Phoenix, she couldn't...not.
"Haunted," she murmured. "Poltergeist or vengeful spirit? I mean, those movie sets are safer now, but they were absolutely death traps back in the day."
"Neither, actually. The guy who wrote the script was pissed about the changes the producer and director made, so he worked some hoodoo black magic, and ended up imprisoning a bunch of spirits who weren't even hanging around, and made them kill people. Once we figured that out, he tried to kill us but, uh."
He cringes a little.
"He broke the talisman, freed the spirits, and they were just pissed enough to kill him, then dissipate."
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dont drink and tag
Dean's made his way around, talked to people, did his civic duty of investigating and not getting caught.
But there's something about knowing hits bunk is his, even if he's sharing it with someone impressively irritating. So he's there with a bottle of liquor, frowning at it when the knock comes.
Huh. That's a first.
He gets up, pulls the damned thing open, and blinks.
"Yeah?"
no subject
Of course. Duh! He would have a room mate! Just like she did.
Except he wasn't at all like Diana's scary-ass roomie. This was a...very attractive young man. Unfortunate haircut, but he had lovely eyes. Like one of those characters in a Japanese manga. She was ready for them to start sparkling with pixie dust or something.
"Oh," she said, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. "Hi there."
no subject
"Uh. Hi. Can I help you?"
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"Well," she said, offering him a smile, "I was actually looking for Anthony. He told me this was his cabin, so you must be, like, his bunk mate, I'm guessing. Either that, or he lied to get away from me." Their meeting hadn't been without its awkwardness.
Diana's voice was aggressively West Coast. Almost like she'd studied the accent, perfected it. Like it was a second language and she wasn't a native Valley Girl. Because, of course, she wasn't. She had the natural lilt of a singer, though. Which went well with the guitar.
It was a whole vibe. One she'd spent a couple of decades perfecting.
no subject
"Oh, yeah. This is his cabin too, I guess. He's not here, though -- I have no idea where he went."
Dean's just kinda grateful that he's got some time to himself in the room, though he doesn't spend much time here, either.
"You wanna leave him a note or something?"
no subject
A pause. And then she slapped the heel of her palm against her head. "Merde! Manners! They're totally a thing! What's wrong with me today?"
You know, aside from being kidnapped and held hostage on a boat?
Diana offered Dean her hand. "I'm Diana. Diana Abel. A-B-E-L. As in 'Caine and dot, dot, dot...'" She always introduced herself like that, whether she wanted to or not. She was reasonably convinced that the Father had somehow programmed her for it. That was a thought she hid away in the darkest corners of her mind, though. Because...ew.
no subject
"Dean Winchester," he says, giving her hand a shake. "I'd say it's good to meet you, but the circumstances kinda suck."
no subject
Diana knew that women these days were expected to have a firm handshake. It was all about leaning in and asserting authority and that stuff. Good stuff. Great stuff. But Arty had pounded it into her head again and again and again. A weak handshake was best. You never knew if there was a hunter around the corner. You never knew who would notice skin that was cool and a pulse that was missing.
Arty worried too much.
In all of her life, Diana was pretty sure she'd never shook hands with a hunter. But even if she did, it wasn't like she was some kind of murdering psycho.
Not really.
She flashed Dean a smile. "Is that an English name? Is your family British?"
no subject
"I'm actually from Kansas, little town called Lawrence. Not many people have heard of it."
Small, quaint. Dean's been back a time or two after the fires, and it's still pretty much how he remembered it. It's always a strange feeling when he sets foot in that town. Good, bad. Indescribable.
no subject
And how. Of course, given the fact that it took--at minimum--at least 160 people to sustain a single Cainite (or, at least one who didn't want to be all murdery), it only made sense that she gravitated to places like New York, Chicago, and Phoenix.
Stupid Phoenix.
"I'm from LA," she said. As if the accent didn't make that perfectly obvious. "Gimme that delicious traffic any day!"
no subject
"Yup, that's me. I've only been to LA once." And, okay - he'd completely geeked out about being there, loved every second of being a PA. "It was a lot, but I liked it. Couldn't imagine living there, though."
no subject
Which was apparently Anthony's idea of torture.
"It takes a lot of getting used to. Living in LA. Def not for the feint of heart. Or weak of stomach. But if you know how to look, and you have the patience for it, you can find incredible beauty there."
no subject
He gestures for her to have a seat if she wants, the couch is folded up and waiting.
"Like what?"
no subject
Flirting with cute guys.
It was nice to have a little slice of normal in an otherwise very, very unnatural set of circumstances.
"Well," she said. "I love the Urban Light installation at the Los Angeles County Museum of Art. I mean, it doesn't look like anything special during the day. Just a bunch of lamp posts. But at night?" Her eyes glittered. "It lights up the whole block, as if it's the middle of the day. You could think you were walking through some kind of Greek temple, with this magical glow from each of the columns. It's totes a fairy tale!"
no subject
"We mostly just did a tour of one of the studios. My brother was bored, but I thought it was fun." And a case had actually been there, of course, but honestly that just made the whole experience that much better. Working onset? Meeting Tara? Hell yeah.
no subject
She loved sets. The fantasy and sci-fi ones were great, but it was the modern stuff that really got her. It was like a small opportunity to play make-believe, to live the life she should have known instead of the shitshow that was Cainite existence.
Diana could be Lucy Ricardo.
Or Abigail Adams.
Or anyone else who had a true love waiting for her.
"I've worked on a couple of movies," she said coyly. "Back in the day. I was the on-set musician for a hot second."
no subject
He grins, perking a bit.
"Me too. Hellhazers II, the Reckoning. I wasn't in it, but I did a lot of PA work. It was kinda fun. They told me I was the best PA ever." Moooostly because he saved a bunch of collective asses, but. You know. Semantics.
no subject
Yeah, she was familiar with slasher movies.
Mostly because her sister watched them to get a big laugh.
no subject
Despite the director being privy to finally knowing what's out there and instead of doing anything helpful, he made bank on it, Dean was kinda proud their innovation ended up in the film.
no subject
Kind of a cute flex. Not one that Diana saw a lot.
"Well," she said, "brunettes are sexier." As she flipped her own brunette hair back, over her shoulder.
no subject
Unicorn, definitely. Dean's lost too many spoons being on this damn bota to worry about impressing people. Then again, if it gets him cute points, who is he to complain?
"I gotta agree with you," he says with a grin, chuckling a little when she flips her hair. He does tend to have a weakness for people with darker hair.
no subject
...slightly less-than-sexy consumption.
But era appropriate.
"How'd you end up PA on a horror movie?"
no subject
*Moulin Rouge was definitely sexy, that they can agree on.
"Well...it's kind of a weird story. My brother went through something pretty traumatic, so I dragged him to Hollywood for a vacation. We were on a tour, and we just kinda...got off the cart and wandered on set."
There's more to it, stuff Dean doesn't necessarily want to get into. Madison had smarted for them both, and when he tells people he's a hunter and they were working on a ghost case, they tend not to believe him. And, here, there's a whole lotta things he would've hunte back home, so it doesn't particularly serve him or do him any favors to say 'oh yeah, we hunted wolves and vamps and monsters!'.
Still, ghosts may be safe, so he adds;
"The set was actually haunted, legitimately. And we ended up taking care of it."
no subject
Diana took ghosts extremely seriously. After what happened in Phoenix, she couldn't...not.
"Haunted," she murmured. "Poltergeist or vengeful spirit? I mean, those movie sets are safer now, but they were absolutely death traps back in the day."
Which was to say...she took him seriously.
no subject
"Neither, actually. The guy who wrote the script was pissed about the changes the producer and director made, so he worked some hoodoo black magic, and ended up imprisoning a bunch of spirits who weren't even hanging around, and made them kill people. Once we figured that out, he tried to kill us but, uh."
He cringes a little.
"He broke the talisman, freed the spirits, and they were just pissed enough to kill him, then dissipate."
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