Dean had been pretty single minded when he came through the door, but at the unidentified sound, his demeanor changes abruptly; his good hand is on the hilt of the khukri blade strapped at his hip before he's even stopped moving, weight shifting to the balls of his feet, ready. His jaw tightens down and down to counter the pain of moving on the injured leg cautiously instead of gingerly, and a thin bead of sweat breaks out on his upper lip as a result, but he still manages it.

Which is why he feels kind of stupid when he sees Titus. Both eyebrows raised, he immediately lets his hip lean on the nearest counter to take the weight onto his good leg, and exhales sharply. The hunter has an ingrained reaction to shaggy brown emo hair, and he's too tired to catch it kicking in while he considers the kid.

"You might wanna ease up on the caffeine there, kiddo."