A single moment after Ricky had entered the warehouse, Dean came thundering after, jumping off the bike without breaking first. Without him on it, the motorcycle continued straight ahead, directly into the side of the building. It exploded in a thousand parts, that evaporated before they even touched the ground. Dean himself landed on the pavement at high velocity, the road itself seeming to bounce and yield, softening the landing.
Half running, Dean passed Luna. Gritted teeth, a lowered brow, the anger was readily apparent, and judging by the look he shot her, it was not only directed at Ricky. He was half a mind to leave her there. Pathetic, clumsy, bipolar, in his way. He was getting fed up with her. One last chance. Already past her, he emitted a short, deep, growl, like the sound of an engine turning on. The car pinning Luna answered in kind - but did not move.
Dean stopped on the spot, spun around and ran back to Luna. He slammed a palm onto the hood of the car, the metal seeming to ripple around it, and roared again. A beat passed, and the car obliged, backing up and leaving Luna free to breath again.
Looking at her, he made a motion towards the warehouse with his head and started walking towards it. The door was summarily kicked open and Dean walked through cautiously, both hands clamped tightly on the gun. As he went through the room, his anger dissipated sligthly, replaced with the familiar ill feeling in the gut.
"Dead clowns... Great." he mumbled.
And there he was. Hardly hiding. Ricky was smiling like he was about to crack one of his signature jokes. Dean was not about to let him.
A shot was fired.
Nicked/Stabbed/Burned a lil' +1, Lost all semblance of patience +1, Ambushed & Trapped +2