Dean doesn't seemed perturbed by the fact that he's been beaten, for once. He merely lets out a (classy) belch when the glass lands back on the table, followed by a satisfied sigh.

"Man, that brings back them college days," he says. "You know. If I'd had them."

He eyes the bottle of Jager and briefly considers simply tipping the contents of it down his throat. But that's right up on the sad list so he dismisses it quickly.

He simply leans back on the couch instead, folding his arms behind his head.

"That hit the spot."