Nearly chuckling at the look on Dempsey's face, Dean supposed that was true. He hadn't exactly answered the question, because he didn't have one. The goal of the afterparty had been to try and find some company for the evening and now he was less sure of what that looked like than when he'd walked in. He was starting to feel that uncomfortable knot in his stomach that always seemed to accompany thoughts of Dempsey these days, but he was determined to push it down. So far this interaction had gone differently than the last time they'd actually spoken, so he was curious to know what Dempsey wanted out of it more than anything else.

"Don't have one, I suppose. Night's open." He admitted, taking a sip of the whiskey he'd been supplied with. It was good, smokey and deep, something he'd had before and he wasn't sure if Dempsey remembered or had picked on a whim, but it was a good sign, right? That was a stupid thought. Dean didn't even know what he wanted out of his conversation, but he could smell Dempsey's cologne and it was taking far more concentration than he would like to admit to keep his expression neutral to leaning interested. He was pretty sure he didn't want to have the same experience as last time, so he was trying not to be as big of a dick as he'd been in the past.