That's Dean. Everything is internal, including what he processed. He doesn't want to go inside, doesn't need Yellow Fever part 2, Electric Boogaloo. Or, Croatoan: Round 2, Celebrity Deathmatch. He doesn't need to be warned like a kid, either.

Dean keeps his head tilted, stepping forward.

"Hellbent on looking for trouble. How'd you see my Tinder profile?" His mouth forms a smile, cautious. "You'd don't need to worry about me second-taking your bio-shock." He studies Doc, his annoyance, and his quick-thinning patience. "You don't look a day over, what does that make you?"