With that, the entire situation has officially become too bizarre for Dashing El Deano and, heedlessly tossing caution to the wind despite Darling Sammy's frantically whispered pleas to the contrary, he rises to his feet and says, "All right, you primitive screwheads, listen up: Now, on any other given day, I'd be doing my damnedest to kill you -- you filthy, murdering chimps -- but hey, desperate times! So, even though I'd love nothing better than to slit your throats -- you dicks -- I'm gonna help you. I'm gonna help you ice The Devil, and then we can all get back to ganking each other like normal." He's not dead yet, so this crap must be working on them. "Impossible!! [Hic!]" Maybe not, friend of friends. "[Hic!]" "You want Lucifer?" Dean continues after boldly helping himself to a couple of fingers of bourbon at the open bar. "[Slurp!]" "Well, the dude's not in the Yellow Pages, but me and Sam? We can get him here." "How?" Kali challenges him. "First," Dean replies, easily sliding into negotiation mode, "you let those main courses go, then we talk." Kali pops an incredulous eyebrow. "We can either take on The Devil together," Dean brazenly concludes, "or you lame-ass bitches can eat me." Pause. "Literally." Heh.