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Sam: All right, Dean. This is the place. Dean: You know, I’ve gotta say Dad and me did just fine without these stupid costumes. I feel like a high school drama dork. What was that play that you did? What was it, uh – our Town. Yeah, you were good, it was cute. Dean: What are you gonna do? Sam: I’m gonna watch Meg. Dean: (laughing) Yeah, you are. Sam: I just wanna see what’s what. Better safe than sorry. Dean: All right, you little pervert. Dean: So Sammy's got a thing for the bad girl. Sam: Yeah, it happens, but not to us. Look, I could be wrong, I’m just sayin’ that there’s something about this girl that I can’t quite put my finger on. (DEAN smirks.) Dean: Well, I bet you’d like to. I mean, maybe she’s not a suspect, maybe you’ve got a thing for her, huh? (SAM rolls his eyes and laughs.) Maybe you’re thinkin’ a little too much with your upstairs brain, huh? (He points to his head and grins. SAM becomes serious again.) John: I got there just in time to see the girl take the swan dive. (pause) She was the bad guy, right? Sam and Dean: (in unison) Yes, sir. (bound up by Meg) Sam: Wanna have fun? Go ahead. I'm a little tied up right now. Sam: Well, they’re not here right now, but what about you, Meg? I thought you were goin’ to California. (DEAN comes up behind SAM.) Meg: Oh, I did. I came, I saw, I conquered. Oh, and I met what’s-his-name, something Michael Murray at a bar. Sam: How'd you figure that out? Dean: Give me some credit, man. You don't have a corner on paper chasing around here. Sam: Oh yeah? Name the last book you read. Dean: Ah, I called dad's friend, Caleb. He told me, all right? Sam: So, you talk to the cops? Dean: Uh, yeah. I spoke to Amy a, uh, charming and perky officer of the law. Sam: Yeah, and what did you find out? Dean: Well, she’s a Sagittarius. She loves tequila, I mean...whew. Oh, and she’s got this little tattoo... Dean: (to Sam) Now, look, why don’t you go knock on her door and invite her to a poetry reading, or whatever it is you do, huh? (over the phone) Sam: Hi. Dean: Let me guess - you're lurking outside that poor girl's apartment, aren't you? Sam: No!...Yes... Dean: You got a funny way of showing your affection. Landlady: You guys said you're with the alarm company? Dean: That's right. Landlady: Well, no offense, but your alarm's about as useful as boobs on a man. Dean: That's why we're here. Dean: I’m just saying these outfits cost hard-earned money. Sam: Whose? Dean: Ours. You think credit card fraud is easy? Dean: I talked to the bartender. Sam: Did you get anything...besides her number? Dean: Dude, I'm a professional. I'm offended that you would think that (smiles and chuckles as he displays a napkin with her phone number)...All righty! Sam: You mind doing a little thinking with your upstairs brain, Dean? Dean: So to recap, the only successful intel we’ve scored so far is the bartender’s number. Sam: I think there’s something weird going on here. Dean: Yeah – she wasn’t even into me! Sam: Go to Hell! Meg: Baby, I’m already there. Dean: Hey, Sam…? Sam: Hmmm? Dean: Next time you want to get laid…find a girl that’s not so buckets of crazy. Dean: Why don't you go up and deliver a private strip-o-gram? Sam: Bite me. Dean: Oh no, Bite her. Just don't leave any teeth marks... (Sam hangs up) Sam?
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