Dean followed at a more leisurely pace, keeping a tight hold on his finger beneath the towel to hopefully slow the bleeding. He wasn't squeamish, not really, but he didn't particularly enjoy the sight of blood. He hadn't exactly looked at it either, just grabbed the tea towel and wrapped it up. It couldn't be that bad, at least not that deep, but he was annoyed with himself nevertheless. Fortunately, Don Juan seemed to have paid attention to where they were and Dean supposed he ought to know, for situations like this, even sticking to his no-fighting promise, he wasn't safe from himself apparently.

"I was cutting up some snacks for our night in, slipped and sliced my finger." He answered with a wry smile. Stupid really. "Do you see anything that will close it up? I don't feel like getting yelled at again." She might not even be on shift yet so he wouldn't owl anyway, unless he couldn't get it to stop. Dean's knowledge was pretty limited here, so he hoped the bottles were labeled with enough information to make an educated guess. Maybe Don Juan knew more about it than he did, that would be helpful. Dean wouldn't fight on a patch job this time either if it meant they didn't have to delay their night.