Dean blinked, nonplused, as if the transformation had been utterly expected. Shifting in his seat, clearly uneasy with the beauty of the young lady before him, and the title she’d bestowed, he considered. *Regular* Dean would have pillaged and plundered like a pirate, but *moral* Dean wouldn’t; his ID and Superego were swapped now, with his subconscious impacting his body and his conscious driving his actions and decisions.<br/><br/>Can we say awkward?<br/><br/>“Well, you’ve got such lovely hair,” Dean began, thinking furiously about what he truly desired in the moment. “And mine is just so long and unkempt. I’m thinking..” And then he stood and in a single motion shirked his clothes and leaned to turn on the proper bath tub, rather than the sink. Naked, the man looked like one might expect – rippling valleys and peaks, taut, tanned skin all as flawless as a sun baked pottery – and hung to the point of being comical (although not quite *impossibly* so.<br/><br/>Putting his fists on his hips, under the lip of muscle some really lean men have, he announced, “We shall do each other’s hair. Braids, I think.” He nodded sharply, sending the hair flying about his chiseled features in a ungainly mess – clearly ignoring the fact that his power would allow him to just “re-do” the hair at a whim if he was willing to give up a little of it (perhaps enough to make him do horrible things to this vulnerable girl?).<br/><br/>Sounds below reached them and Dean flushed, shaking his head. “Damn, that sounds like fun too. Hair first, and then we can wrestle and see who cries ‘Uncle’ first?” Because, well, it did sort of sound like that, even if Dean knew the truth, the girl before him looked quite innocent!<br/>