Dean takes that note -- the one Sam practically shoved in his face -- and reads it.

He's still smirking, because you always keep up your front, always -- but the edge on it's a little different.

"Not earthshaking, huh? Good to know."

Because Ava feeling like Sam needs to know shit -- yeah, that's nothin' to pay attention to. Not at all.

He sets the note down.

"Russian judge, my ass. But when you're done with this little pow-wow, Sam, you and me're gonna have a talk."

Oh, are they gonna.

"Meanwhile, looks like I have some time to kill."

Dean's smirk gets a little wider and -- to a close approximation, at least -- a lot more genuine.

"Three guesses on what I'm gonna do, and the first two don't count. Andrew."

Sam's BFF gets a short nod before Dean makes a move to head back the way he came.

It'll be easier to grill Sammy when he's by himself, anyway. Habits as old as that, they die real hard.