When Charlie Bradbury shows up to the bunker with three USS Enterprise costumes and a six-pack of Corona, the last thing she expects to find is a third Winchester.
But that’s exactly what she gets.
The man who opens the door after she gives the secret knock (the syllables to “mischief managed”) definitely looks like a Winchester. Rumpled hair, flannel shirt that’s two times two big, and rocking the five o’clock shadow. As well as weirdly colored, weirdly intense eyes. That also seems to be trademark of the Winchester way.
“Um…” Charlie says, her hand still poised in a fist. “Am I supposed to know you?”
The man tips his head inquisitively. “You’re not the pizza man.”
holy shit i love you.