"Real funny," he agrees. Not that it's not interesting, the similarities. The round mirror. He doesn't get 'funny lady.' Maybe he'll ask. Dean, too will get to inspection. He hasn't made it yet, not without coffee. Not without -- who knows, anymore. Maybe he'll just die here in the kitchen. Dehydrate into a puddle.

"May it." Dean's not so sure. Nothing's been promising with answers. How different will this house be. Dead ends beget dead ends beget dead freakin' ends when Dean can't follow through or break someone's heart.

That thought ended differently than where it started.

Glancing down at his hand around the mug, he lets go and tilts it, flexing his fingers.

"Uhh." He's at a loss. Again. He hates this town. "I'm - I'm marked, now?"