( That is completely and totally what bathtime is for. )

Sam shifts a little where he's sitting to make sure she has enough room - which, really, is a moot point because of how much space there is surrounding him, but he's just being polite, so it kind of goes without saying. Dean is paying close attention to the piece he'd just lit, watching the spew of sparks and eyeing the dry grass beyond the patch of dirt warily, because if they end up setting something on fire, this isn't exactly going to be the sneaky bit of fun they'd both wanted it to be.

Her response reassures him, and he allows himself to settle in a bit more comfortably, sitting cross-legged in the dirt with his elbows braced on his knees, head tilted back so far as he watches the light show that if he were to go any further, he might be in danger of ending up with a crick in his neck when this is all over and done with. "That's good to know. It's not like my brother cares, but I don't wanna hear my dad yell about it." A pause, and then he turns his gaze back on her, his smile threatening to split the bottom half of his face clear in two.

"I'm Sam."