"Hey, it's only right," Dean shrugged, glad to be done with the niceties.

"Bloody Mary? I must've killed her once." He scratched the back of his head, looking back, thoughtful - "Nah, just a ghost pulling her schtick. What's the real thing do?"

He didn't want to ask what had happened in the lab, and didn't need to. It wasn't his business. His business was killing Bloody Marys wherever he met them.