Back on the roof, Sam furrows his brow. "What is it?" Ava wonders. "My brother's in trouble," Sam growls. "What?" Ava gapes. "He gave me a code word," Sam reveals while pulling out a pad of Blue Rose Motel notepaper to scribble down the Monroe Street address. "Someone's got a gun on him." "'Code word'?" Ava repeats, incredulously. "Yeah," Sam replies, casually enough, "'Funkytown.'" Ha! Ava gives Sam this, "You're kidding me with this bullshit, aren't you?" tilt of her head. Heh. "He thought of it!" Sam hastily explains, embarrassed. "It...it's...kind of a...long story," he stammers before hustling her off the roof. Hee! To all of it, but especially to the bit about Dean picking "Funkytown" to indicate someone's got a gun to his head, because I find that entirely plausible. "My husband Jack Bauer loves Lipps Inc.," Raoul claims, "but I can see your point here."
Crack Shack. Dean, in cocky mode, chides Gordon with, "I know Sam and I aren't your favorite people, but don't you think this is a little extreme?" Gordon, who's unloading a small arsenal on a nearby table, menaces, "You think this is about revenge?" "Well," Dean smirks, "we did leave you tied up in your own mess for three days." Dean pauses for a moment before snickering, "Which was awesome." Heh. "Sorry, I shouldn't laugh," Dean adds, not feeling terribly sorry about that particular situation at all. "This isn't personal," Gordon coolly insists. "I'm not a killer, Dean, I'm a hunter, and your brother's fair game." Gordon rams a clip into another automatic for emphasis. DUN! Dean's ducky-lipped glare of fraternal outrage burns holes through the back of Gordon's blue flannel shirt.