Dean flips a hand idly at Sam's glance, and tails the two of them down the hall. When he slips past Titus and into the room, the change is immediate, and most akin to some kind of hound searching a field for a scent trail; if he had mobile ears they'd be perked up and focused forward, his eyes bright and intent, and he is actually sniffing the air - though subtly. He moves forward and mentally separates the room into a grid, and begins poking around opposite Sam.
Since the typists already know what actually happened, it's safe to say there's nothing to find; no sulfur in the air, no marks on the walls or floor, no hexbags hidden behind a book or under the bed. Dean does his best to turn the room upside down, though, putting things back where he finds them for the most part unless or until Titus protests. Dean has never been the one with finesse.
If Titus doesn't stop him, though, he'll end up standing next to the discarded quill, wishing he could crouch down to examine it, and looking for the knife that had been mentioned before.
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timeasmymeasure
no subject
Date: 2011-07-19 10:00 pm (UTC)Since the typists already know what actually happened, it's safe to say there's nothing to find; no sulfur in the air, no marks on the walls or floor, no hexbags hidden behind a book or under the bed. Dean does his best to turn the room upside down, though, putting things back where he finds them for the most part unless or until Titus protests. Dean has never been the one with finesse.
If Titus doesn't stop him, though, he'll end up standing next to the discarded quill, wishing he could crouch down to examine it, and looking for the knife that had been mentioned before.