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Fist clenched, arm cocked back. A hand on Dean's bicep was a reminder to disarm. More like a suggestion.
"An unfortunate accident..." the valet stuttered.
"You accidentally shoot someone..." Dean's arm snaked behind his back.
"Dean..."
A strong grip intercepted his wrist before fingers could brush his pistol's handle. Thwarted, Dean's arm returned to his side.
"You don't 'accidentally' crash my car into a concrete pillar!"
Frustrated fingers ran over rumpled hair. A steadying hand on his shoulder guided him to accept the valet's compensation.
Counting the cash, Dean shot the valet a humorless smirk. "You better thank my brother."