Now Sam might not be picture perfect here -- his hair's mussed, his clothes are rumpled and wrinkled, and his face is carrying a flush from the booze he's had since he's been here.

But he's still wearing all his clothes at least. "Jesus, Dean," he huffs out.

Exasperated and trying as he might to look annoyed, he's still wearing a little grin because he's relieved to finally find a familiar face. "Dude, where have you been?"

He paused. "Wait, no. I can guess. Been I've been looking for you, you know."