Warning Signs

If you talk enough sense, then you'll lose your mind John Alden. Hunter. Unaffiliated. RP account for Vieux Noyés RP

[jchnalden-blog]

text || Elena

John: Bonnie Bennett.

John: May be under the impression I'm an FBI agent.

John: FYI.

[wiccabennett-deactivated2018073]

Courtesy Call || Bonnie & John

[jchnalden-blog]

wiccabennett:

Bonnie decompressed from the pressure of the interview by considering what she could do to find Issac’s body. Magic wasn’t going to be of much use, but the coven seemed to be the obvious starting point. She didn’t think she could infiltrate them entirely on her own, and she had little to barter in exchange for information. All she could do was watch and hope that some morsel was left out for her to track. Her hues traveled along the room for a moment then as she caught a glimpse of Emily in her peripherals. She swallowed-the imagery of the woman was becoming more forceful and demanding the more she’d tried to ignore it. It seemed even her conscious thoughts weren’t safe anymore.

“I think even he knew that he was in over his head. You can fight it all you want, but the idea of not having to fight is a welcomed one after some time.” Bonnie mused as she shook her head. She’d had to coax Issac into her home carefully, and it wasn’t without hardships that she’d gotten him to stay. To this day, Bonnie hadn’t been able to discern if the boy had actually trusted her or not. “I’ve got a few friends and the Gilbert siblings. That’s what I have left.” Bonnie murmured to the man before meeting his gaze. “So, the idea of me being alone like he was isn’t that far off. If it was me, I’d want the help, and so, I don’t turn people away that need it for themselves.” Bonnie whispered, taking another sip of her tea to settle the emotions that had begun to dance around in the corners of her mind. “Anything else, Agent?” The woman murmured softly, setting her cup down onto the worn coffee table.

Bonnie had a point, and John tilted his head in acknowledgement. “For what it’s worth, I’m glad he found somebody in the end. I’ve been searching for those missing kids awhile now, and... it’s terrible, what happened to them.” Understatement of the century. 

John’s gaze shot to Bonnie’s however, when she mentioned the Gilberts. Jesus, this city was way too fucking small for his liking. First Allison, now the Gilberts too? Suddenly the chances of Bonnie not knowing about all the crazy shit flying around this town shot down to about .25. Did he mention the connection to her now? Hedge his bets? The odds of her not finding out about his connection to the Gilberts was slim as all hell, slimmer even than her not being supernatural. 

But no, this had been too rocky a conversation to confess now. He’d confirm with Elena and Jeremy, and then figure out where to go from there. “No, that’ll be all Ms. Bennett. Thank you again for your help, and if anything turns up, I’ll be in contact.”

[maryxsibley-deactivated20180810]

you’re cold, and I burn.

@jchnalden

[jchnalden-blog]

Haunted by Ghosts | Open

[jchnalden-blog]

wolfwandering:

‘A friend of the family’. Quentin searched the man’s gaze at that, somewhat taken aback by the nature of his connection to Jenna - or lack thereof. John seemed to be in charge of this thing; it was a lot to undertake for a family member - moreso for an outsider. He wouldn’t have done it, not for anyone - not by a long shot. The comparison made him feel… Something in the pit of his stomach as he recognized for the second time in as many encounters that this ‘John’ guy was more selfless than most people he’d ever met… Combined. 

“That’s-… Uh, that’s real nice. Of- of you.” He gestured vaguely and swallowed back his discomfort as he glanced down at his feet. “I can try to put you in touch with this girl - can’t promise it’ll help though.” He hoped Charlie wouldn’t be mad at him for this; hoped she wouldn’t think he was taking advantage of her skills. But she’d been able to trace Isaac when he’d needed it, and damn it - maybe she’d be more useful to John than he could be at any rate. Still, that didn’t mean he didn’t wanna  t r y . “Gonna go, but If I can help with anythin’… I-… I want to.” It felt strange on his tongue, he hadn’t stuck his neck out for anyone in this city thus far, and as a rule, he liked to keep it that way. But this felt different. “… For Jenna.” 

John looked away, shoved his hands in his pockets. “Nobody that young should have to arrange a funeral.” It was an experience that stayed with you, one that left a bitter taste in your mouth for far too long, especially when the person in question had been taken too soon. He still remembered the sweaty palms gripping his hands, the claps on the shoulders, the horrified John, i’m so sorry, I can’t imagine... This was difficult enough as it was for Elena and Jeremy. If he could alleviate some of that pain for these kids, what good reason did he have not to?

“Hey man, anything is appreciated. The kids... they deserve a little closure, you know?” He shook Quentin’s hand and made sure to look him in the eye. “It means a lot Quentin. Thank you. I’ll give you a call if I need anything, and uh—” he paused, firmed up his expression. “Same goes yeah? Anybody gives you trouble, I got a few more of those... well, you know.”

[jchnalden-blog]

silverargentvalkyrie:

Allison bit back the chiding laughter that tickled the back of her throat. John’s skittish reaction only reminded her that he was still a man beneath all the grief. Interesting. “I was just asking. There’s no need for you to get your panties in a wad.” She plucked one of the tissues from her purse and handed it to him, “..you missed a little.” Her tongue clicked in confirmation before she’d settled back into the couch. “I bet she would have enjoyed it before she kicked the bucket.”

Allison definitely took after her mother with a comment like that. Victoria was a nightmare with a knife, but it was her tongue that was sharpest by far. “I’ll get my panties in a wad if I want to get my panties in a wad,” he mumbled petulantly, though it fell flat as he huffed with laughter. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, kid. What about you, huh? Your mother would castrate me if she thought I was encouraging anything, but use condoms and birth control, yeah?”

[duchess-katarin-lemeur]

Drive My Car || John & Evelyn

[jchnalden-blog]

under-the-matisse:

Evelyn was grateful when he cut off her rambling. She often forgot how lucky she was  to have a friend who didn’t ask too many questions. If he thought it was odd that her husband wasn’t accompanying her or that she rarely mentioned him, then he kept it to himself. If anyone knew the extent  of her unhappiness it was Vic, and she tried not to burden him with it either. 

“Well the perks of being not employed mean  I don’t have to schedule around a  job,” she joked back. “It’s at 1:00, right after their lunch so I shouldn’t have to wait long.”As much as she wanted him there, she also didn’t want him to be put out in any way. Being a burden was not her style.

“And thank you. Really.” 

John checked his watch; it was 11:45 now. Plenty of time. “That’s perfect. We could get lunch ourselves if you want?” He looked around at the papers scattered around his living room floor. Photos and articles and files. “Maybe afterward? I’ve gotta clean up a little, but I have enough time I think. It’s about fifteen minutes to their office right?” He remembered she’d mentioned it a while back when he’d first offered his assistance. “I’ll pick you up at 12:30, just to be safe. And Evelyn? It’s really nothing, stop thanking me, you’ll give me hives.”

At 12:30 sharp, John rolled up to the Jones Manor. It had an honest to God arched pull around driveway. Fucking rich people. He parked the car at the front of entrance steps and got out of the car. There was a door knocker. He stared at it for a second because surely there was a doorbell...? A paging system?

Nope. Very well then. He used the knocker and stuffed his hands back in his pockets immediately, as if the sight of his hands alone would contaminate this place.

[sorenkingsley]

[jchnalden-blog]

@todayitwillbedifferent @jerxgilbs

[wiccabennett-deactivated2018073]

Courtesy Call || Bonnie & John

[jchnalden-blog]

wiccabennett:

“Good.” Bonnie whispered, nodding her thanks to the man. She didn’t want to be difficult, but when people were just trying to full more newspaper articles, resistance was her fallback.

“Then I’ll help you in any way I can. I don’t want Issac to be-” Bonnie cut herself off as her breath caught. “I don’t want him to be forgotten. He barely got a chance to live, but he was here. He was just here.” Bonnie whispered, looking at the couch that John was residing on. Issac had slept there for months, and she’d seen glimpses of it in his face. He’d felt safe; he’d thought that maybe it was going to be okay. The irony of that. Bonnie resumed listening to the man before doing her best to answer him. 

“He hung around Scott McCall and that Argent girl. I saw him with them a few times in passing, but he didn’t really talk about them here. I don’t know what they were. Could’ve been just school stuff or maybe they were even friends?” She admitted, wringing her hands together before frowning a bit as he talked about bruises and scars. 

“He never came home hurt, but the way he was-the way he acted makes me think he was hurt by someone at some point in his life. He’s skittish, and he trusts as easily as you do.” Bonnie murmured before nearly smiling. She’d found Issac’s naked body in her yard under a full moon. “He was passed out in my lawn. Poor kid was exhausted. I offered him a place to crash for the night, and somehow, he just never left.”

Scott McCall and that Argent girl.

John cursed internally, because of course Isaac hung around his niece. He wasn’t allowed to have anything go easily. It was a universal law apparently. He’d known they were friends, but not that they were that close. Allison was obstinate, not quite fearless but willing to disregard her fears in order to do what she felt needed to be done. That almost scared him more. He remembered growing up in the shadow of Victoria’s single-minded quest for revenge against the wolves who attacked her, and how it had changed her, how it had compromised her ability to approach situations with caution, to recognize her own weaknesses. 

Allison had already been hurt once, and now she had lost her father, her friend, and very probably what little innocence she had left. What would she become now? He tuned back in to Bonnie’s answers, making note of her observations. He hummed in reply, because that fit with his profile. There was a record of a domestic on the police file, called against Isaac’s father, who was violently murdered not long after. Isaac’s brother was the prime suspect, but he was never found. Isaac had been taken in by a distant relative of his mother’s apparently. A convenient cover by the Nola Coven, who planned to murder him and succeeded, John’s mind reminded him unhelpfully. 

“I have to admit, I’m a little surprised he took you up on the offer, if he was as mistrustful as you say,” it wasn’t disbelief, but more of an acknowledgement of what dire straits the boy must’ve been in to consider trusting a stranger. “It was kind of you to offer help to someone like that, someone you didn’t know.” It reminded him of the Gilberts, actually. Elena would help anyone in need.

[jchnalden-blog]

silverargentvalkyrie:

“Were you sleeping with Jenna Sommers?” She muttered from her place on the beaten down old couch in his apartment. 

@jchnalden

John choked on his rum and coke, and only managed to catch most of it before it could dribble down his chin. “Jesus fuck, Allison. No, I wasn’t sleeping with Jenna Sommers. Not that it’s any of your business.” That he might have slept with Jenna Sommers had she lived a little longer was none of her business either.

[jchnalden-blog]

Haunted by Ghosts | Open

[jchnalden-blog]

wolfwandering:

“Just like that? For no reason?…” It doesn’t occur to him that maybe it’s rude to ask. His civilities and consideration for the proper code of conduct is somewhat paltry to begin with - the surprise of Jenna’s death makes him even less likely to think twice. “Porca troia…“ The bouncer mutters under his breath. “Was she-… Your wife?” He guesses, because it occurs to him that it’s a particularly shitty blow for someone who, just weeks ago, was selfless enough to help a stranger out of what might’ve also ended up in murder. The events are probably unrelated, but he can’t help but feel a stab of guilt. Reflexively, the thought pops into his head that he should offer the grenade back, in case John wants to put it to good use. But another voice in his head rises just as quick to shut down the thought; revenge isn’t going to bring Jenna back to life during her own funeral. So he thinks of something else.

“I know someone. She’s real good at trackin’ people, findin’ shit - I don’t know the details.” Quentin admits a little vaguely, keeping his voice to a discrete level for fear of being overheard. “But if-, y’ know, after all this… If ya plan t’ look into it, maybe I can help. Put you two in touch or somethin’.”

John shrugged, because damn it, funerals made him emotional, and he hated the senselessness of Jenna’s death. It wasn’t fair, it was worse than unfair, it was downright cruel. “So far, they haven’t come up with anything.” I haven’t come up with anything. “Oh, uh, no. I’m just...” What? How did he explain the Gilberts? A family fell in my lap and I was just selfish enough to keep ‘em. “A friend of the family.” He finished somewhat lamely. The urge to give more detail, justify his claim to this little family was overwhelming for a moment, but he remembered at the last moment, the Gilberts’ lack of family other than some random stranger they imprinted on... well, that wasn’t his story to tell. 

The unexpected offer of aid was more than welcome. “Yeah. I’ve got a couple leads I’ve still gotta hunt down, but at this point it’s mostly just grabbing at straws, really. I’ll take anything I can get at this point. Those kids...” He said, catching Jeremy across the room. “They don’t deserve this.”

[duchess-katarin-lemeur]

Drive My Car || John & Evelyn

[jchnalden-blog]

under-the-matisse:

It wasn’t fair to him. Essentially, she was asking him for the support she should be getting from Rogan. It was too much to ask of a friend. But god it was tiring to do this alone. Telling her husband she was pregnant certainly hadn’t been the solution to that problem. Besides that, she was scared.

“I have a doctor’s appointment and…” she said, trailing off as she pulled her bottom lip between her teeth and chewed it.  Hopefully he remembered the offer he’d made. He had made it, hadn’t he? Good grief, get a grip. “I don’t want to…I mean I could but…” Jesus, Evelyn, stop sounding like a babbling idiot. “I could use some company.” To her own ears, it sounded weak and if her voice wavered, it could be chalked up to nerves and not fear.

He breathed a sigh of relief as she mentioned a doctor’s appointment, and couldn’t help but smile. Was it inappropriate to be happy she had deigned to ask him for help? He’d been worried about her since they first met weeks ago. Had he ever actually seen the psychologist recommended to him so long ago, this impulse of his would no doubt be a subject worthy of discussing, but... what harm did it do? So he had a thing about protecting pregnant women. Hardly surprising. 

“Hey, hey, Evelyn. Please, it’s fine. It’d be a pleasure, honestly,” he said, cutting off the guilty ramble. “Turns out I have nothing on my plate that can’t be rescheduled anyway. Perks of being self-employed,” he joked lightly. There was a rash of resentment for the absentee husband she never spoke of. John knew of him, Zave’s brother and a figure who had dotted the edges of his childhood. He’d always been somewhat stern, but weren’t most parents excited about well... becoming parents? The idea of it had his gut roiling, because even if it was something he wanted more than anything in the world, the idea of being a parent again... 

The fear he felt, jesus... it was debilitating. He couldn’t image what Evelyn must’ve felt like. “Seriously, I’d be happy to. What time?”

[jchnalden-blog]

Haunted by Ghosts | Open

[jchnalden-blog]

brother-atropos:

Ever since the curse his mother had bestowed upon him and his siblings, death never beckoned at his door again - but that didn’t sway his fascination of it. So maybe it was wrong to visit the funeral of some woman he had no relation to or any interest in whatsoever, but the line of people mourning….it was curious. Human life was so easily gone and yet so many people seemed affected by one. Oh, and the family photo revealed a girl that resembled Katherine, he needed to see this truly was a doppleganger - something that he was sure his dear brother Klaus was already involved in.

So here he found himself ambling along in a line of mourners, observing the actions of those around him behind a facade of his own grief. He barely spared the man a glance as he arrived at the front of the line and shook his hand, blue eyes instead scanning the ground for Katherine’s lookalike. “Of course,” what was he supposed to say again? “sorry for your loss.”

The double take John took was almost comical. Isaac. Isaac Lahey. His hand gripped Isaac’s too tight, and he forgot to withdraw it, as shocked as he was. Isaac. Isaac was alive. “You—” He could barely manage to get the words out. “You’re  a l i v e.”  How? How had he missed this? 

It hit him then, the body had gone missing. 

Had he been alive this entire time? Why hadn’t he come forward? Why hadn’t he eased the grief of those who missed him, few though they might’ve been? “Isaac, what—? How—?” The words just wouldn’t come out, like they’d gotten clogged in his throat, his disbelief and shock an obstruction to his airways he simply couldn’t dislodge. He realized then, that Isaac hadn’t recognized him at all, and something began to tug at his gut. This wasn’t the place for this conversation. “Can I talk to you? Privately?” he asked, though he’d already began to drag Isaac away. The director of the funeral home had offered his office should John have any need of it, and he gratefully took advantage of that fact now, sliding the door shut behind them. 

“How are you alive?”

[wiccabennett-deactivated2018073]

Courtesy Call || Bonnie & John

[jchnalden-blog]

wiccabennett:

“I’m sorry.” Bonnie finally gave, eyes pouring into her tea as she shook her head. “It’s just every officer that’s come in here is treating Issac like a dead end. They aren’t trying to find who did it or what even happened to those other kids.” The witch said quietly as the words left a bitter taste lingering in her mouth. “Those kids died over a month ago, and there’s been no justice. They didn’t get a funeral or a memorial; they got plastered all over page six until they were replaced by headlines for the latest jazz festival. It’s not right.” Bonnie said as she looked at the male. Hands placed her tea onto the coffee table in front of her before looking up to find his gaze lingering on her. Bonnie stared back before nodding slowly. “Most nights, yeah. He didn’t always come in at the same time though. Varied.” She sighed, looking to the couch adjacent from her before frowning slightly. “-I don’t think he had a job or anything that I know of. I mostly left food for him.” Eyes drifted to her hands then as she chewed her lower lips as she thought about the plate of food she’d left out that had never been eaten. She should’ve called sooner; maybe, just maybe, she could’ve saved him. 

“He’s not a dead end, not to me.” John didn’t have to fake sincerity, not this time. He knew he had failed those kids in life, but he wouldn’t fail them in death and he didn’t care how long it took him. Bonnie Bennett couldn’t know that, she didn’t have to know that, as long as he got the job done in the end. 

“It’s not right. That’s why I’m still working this case. I’m going to see it through, Ms. Bennett.” He made the promise to her, in lieu of Isaac, and hell if that didn’t hurt. 

He took notes. It wasn’t much but any information was better than none. “He have any friends? Mention any names? Did he ever come home with any clue to where he’d been? Bruises, scratch marks, receipts, shopping bags...anything?” She left out food for him, and without a job it was highly unlikely Isaac was paying rent...

“How did you two meet? How did he come to stay with you?” 

[jchnalden-blog]

Graves Where the Coyotes Cry || Allison&John

[jchnalden-blog]

silverargentvalkyrie:

Allison internalized the strangling pressure of John’s arms around her. The little girl trapped beneath the fibrous walls yearned for any kind of touch to soothe her aching heart. The warrior who none took residence in her shoes couldn’t be bothered with such erroneous emotions. She drew in one lasting breath, waiting for him to release her from her own personal torture. 

Be calculable and clinical. There’s no room for anything else. 

Her mother’s voice tightened the bounds that sentenced her love for her uncle and compassion for the world to unknown depths in her soul. Right now, all that matter was a lead on the witches who orchestrated all of the chaos; and to find her father. That wasn’t John’s cross to bear so she wouldn’t push for him to drop his agenda to help her. No one could come above their own needs–she couldn’t rely on anyone but herself to find him. 

“If she’s anything Blake, she’s gonna crack. Power is a potent driver for insanity..” she offered with a poignant sneer. “I know you don’t want to hear this but she’s the ring leader for all the bad juju in this city. You find her, you find all of them. Innocent people dying and I don’t know about you but I can’t stand by and watch it happen.” 

His question shouldn’t have thrown her off but it did. Any mention of her father rattled her cage. Allison gnawed on her lip contemplating the merits of opening up to him. “No. I’ve checked all the hospitals and morgues in the city. He’s not there…” a fact that only ignited a rage inside of her. “I’m not going to stop looking for him…even if that means I have to start getting creative.”

John couldn’t help but wonder what Allison knew about power, or insanity, then remembered who her parents were, and barely concealed a wince. He wanted her life to be better than his, and it seemed like that just wasn’t in the cards. 

It felt like blame, the way she said it, and John’s expression tightened in answer. She wasn’t wrong. Not really. “I faced what she was a long time ago Allison, it doesn’t hurt me anymore. Just... facts.” That was a lie, but one they both needed. Mary hurt him every day of the past thirteen years, no getting around that. She hurt him with every act of evil, and every act of charity. It was hard to tell what was worse. The proof that he was right, or the doubt that he could’ve been wrong. A lecture from his long-lost niece wasn’t going to change anything. 

But she was grieving, and she was still just a kid. He couldn’t hold her resentment against her. After all, she knew him about as well as he knew her. They were strangers to one another. As distant, if not more so, as all the rest of the people he’d tried to call family. 

“I’ll help you however I can.” He said in earnest. She obviously didn’t think much of him, or his methods, that was clear, but he worried about what she could achieve with only his sister and her aunt in her corner. Dangerous women to be leading Allison’s introduction into hunting. “If he was dead, we’d know by now. The big players in this city... death is sport to them. They like to brag. They wouldn’t have tried to cover it up.”

[jchnalden-blog]

Smoke You Out || John&Mary

[jchnalden-blog]

maryxsibley:

jchnalden:

The blood rushing in his ears drowned out the words she spewed down the barrel of his gun, and he tilted his head. For one strange, clear moment, she had no power over him; her mouth moved and he couldn’t hear the words she spoke and he was free, and he pulled the trigger.

He watched her fall dispassionately, but for the budding shame that he’d had his chance, and hadn’t taken it. She would live, and that, that was not a good thing. It wasn’t. 

Her words landed, but couldn’t quite sting as badly when she’d just thrown a scrap of fabric at him, which fluttered unthreateningly to the ground. She wouldn’t die, he knew that, but she would bleed, and she would hurt, and for now that would be enough. He said nothing as he walked away, the old screen door slapping shut behind him on his way out. He would do better by the Gilberts. There was no other choice, not anymore. 

Mary kept her gaze on John the best she could as she pressed her hands against her lower abdomen. She’d try to keep herself conscious for as long as feasibly possible, but even she knew that she had maybe three minutes at best before the blood loss won out. Dark waves were dampened at the ends from where crimson spilled out of her. “Goodbye, John.” She whispered bleakly, finally closing her eyes as she heard the slap of the screen door. A soft cry of pain left her then, but it wasn’t caused by the wound her lover had dealt. The physical pain had stopped a few minutes ago, probably lost in the shock and adrenaline that were being spread through her body. No, this cry of pain was an emotional one; John was a lost cause. At least, that was what she had to tell herself. She’d find Rain and get the hell out of this city. What she’d come for didn’t exist any longer, and without it, there was no reason to dwell. 

Mary’s thoughts slowly dulled out soon after, replaced by the dull ache of her gut until there was nothing but darkness. 

[jchnalden-blog]

Haunted by Ghosts | Open

[jchnalden-blog]

wolfwandering:

He didn’t know what he was doing here, he didn’t normally enter places of worship, let alone when they were intended to host semi-private events. But he’d recognized her picture out of the corner of his eye while walking by the church, and it was enough to make him do a double-take. Jenna Sommers was dead?… How? Why?…

Appalled, Quentin entered the church, only to come face-to-face with another human he’d recently met. John. He looked down at the hand the man offered him automatically, glancing back up to meet his eyes before taking it a little awkwardly. “Uh-… Sorry, I’m-… Shouldn’t be here, but I saw the thing outside, the-… She’s dead?” He asked in disbelief.

John was functioning on autopilot, so it took him a moment to realize that it was that wolf, Quentin, the one from the whole grenade debacle. He winced internally, because that had been a lot, even for him, but hell, it had worked. Seeing the wolf in this context was a little disarming, particularly, the drastic difference in temperament on both their parts. Still, he was touched by the obvious emotion on Quentin’s face. She wasn’t his family, not really, but she kind of was. 

Quentin is right, he shouldn’t be here. He knew there was at least one vampire roaming around, and he wouldn’t be surprised if there were more, but still. It wasn’t his job to babysit. And it was a fucking funeral, you’d think people would have a little class and save the genocide for after. “Yeah,” he answered shortly. It was an odd question, borne of shock rather than an actual desire for a response. Still, John finds himself answering regardless, despite his discomfort. “She was, um, yeah. She was murdered. No leads right now,” not that he was going to stand for that. 

[jchnalden-blog]

wolfwandering:

He tenses when the man pulls out a pistol and cocks it. It doesn’t catch him off-guard this time, not nearly to the same extent, but the man is still a stranger and this is the second weapon he’s brandished from his jacket in the span of five minutes. Quentin’s eyes travel back up to the man’s face when he speaks about Marcel and proceeds to introduce himself. “Sounds like ya know a lot ‘bout him… Hunter?” He asks, because most humans he knows don’t seem to even be aware of Marcel’s existence, let alone what he’s been through lately. He shoved away the memory of that night, that graveyard, Isaac’s body laid out post-sacrifice… Yeah, he’d learnt that Marcel had lost a kid to that sacrifice himself, but he doesn’t feel much empathy for the despot. For one, it sure as shit hadn’t made Marcel any kinder. And secondly, Quentin had his suspicions about the ‘loss’. He hadn’t been able to prevent Isaac’s death because he’d had no warning, because he was working alone, and because all the odds were against him. But how was the most powerful vampire in town not any more capable in stopping the witches’ ritual?… Didn’t make no sense to him.

“Uh, so, listen…  I appreciate the company, but ya shouldn’t put yer ass on the line a second time. Y’don’t need to stick around.” He offers, despite the fact that he’s honestly feeling better about his chances with John present. “… ‘sides, I don’t plan on puttin’ in my resignation tonight.” Quentin shakes his head. “I gotta think things through, this is all too quick. Shit.”

John notices the wolf’s reaction to the gun, but he doesn’t put it away. He’s not an idiot, and those vamps are only gonna stay gone for so long. “Yeah, but, I got a thing about people who get what’s coming to ‘em,” he said with a shrug. It isn’t much, and honestly, he wouldn’t take a hunter at their word face value, but it’s all the wolf is gonna get. It’s not like he’s got his resumé on him. 

He narrows his eyes at Quentin, who, he’s pretty sure, is severely underestimating the kind of danger he’s in. Then again, John had just saved his ass via live grenade, so maybe he doesn’t. But Jon’s not going to stick around and wait for round two. He gave Quentin a chance, it’s up to him to figure out what to do with it. “Alright. I wouldn’t recommend hanging around too long, but...” John pulled out the grenade again. “Here. Just in case you’re even in a pinch. Don’t tell anyone who gave it to ya.”