About fifteen minutes down the road a lone in the middle of no where, gas station had been plunkered down. Pulling into it, Benedict parked next to one of two pumps. Grabbing his phone he got out, going to the gas pump. Starting the pump, he dialed Dean, hoping whatever trouble was happening he wasn't in the middle of at this exact moment.
He put down the grenade he was working on when his cell rang. Standing, Dean moved to his jacket draped across one of the two queens in the room and fished out the phone. Flipping it open, Dean answered with a, "Yeah?"
His eyes watching the numbers going higher and higher in price as his gas pumped, Benedict answered with another question, "Trouble a foot is there?" his voice deep and slightly mumbled due to a cigarette in his mouth. A bad habit of his.
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