There wasn't a single drop of sweat on my brow and yet I felt my whole facade melting away. Dean Winchester sometimes had that effect on people, even before breaking out the chives.

"'Fraid not, sir. My only friends here are Dickens and Wilde."

Smith and Wesson I neglected to mention, but I had a hunch that one of us would introduce them soon enough. I had another hunch that it would be me.

Everyone had a tell, not just in poker. His tell was the distinct lack of bullet holes in my suit. He could have waltzed in here with a dozen loogans and turned the place into a Swiss cheese shop in a matter of seconds.

But he didn't and I was still standing and he was still talking, which could only mean this was more than your average morning pop for revenge. And I had one last hunch that his visit wouldn't turn into a jolly reunion party.

"Let me just get a bag for you then..."

My hand slid under the counter. I'd played the rat before, but I wasn't about to become the mouse in his game.