“[i]Seinfeld[/i]? Really? Gotta give ya props, though. That’s some ancient shit. I was more of a [i]Whose Line Is It Anyway[/i] kinda kid.” Winchester mulled over the main proposition, however. He had been away from his crew for some time. He began to consider hypothetical scenarios in his head if he did return. The Crew’s reaction, his own, etc. Of course Winchester missed them. Drake had always been a good drinking buddy, Sawyer was as much as a misanthrope as him, and Alpha was almost like a daughter to him. He was silent for around 30 seconds, the wetting of the washcloth breaking the spell methodically. “Ya know what? Fuсk it. I’ll stop bein’ antisocial and get back with the boys.” A grin spread across his face. Damn. He considered the crew his friends. That being a luxury people like him aren’t prone to having. Who ‘people like him’ are, is entirely relative. Winchester considered those people to be his crew. Lowlifes, scumbags, pirates, psychopaths and sociopaths and everything in between. All shaped by some trauma or another. Or, maybe, they just needed to get by. “And you said it [b]wasn’t[/b] stolen from hookers? Quite the upgrade.”