I'm supposed to be the terrible liar, you know. [ Harry arches a brow at John, particularly after the comment about the contents of his insides. Not the visceral ones, because he's pretty sure they're perfect mirrors of his own and he's glad neither of them got disemboweled by angry trees. The contents of John's soul, he means. Looking upon it was a two-way street, and if the man Harry likened to a tiger was going to hoist that banner high when he pleased, then Harry was going to whip it out when he wanted a leg up in the conversation.

Still, the mere idea of a vanilla mortal who could shrug off glamour that swiftly? It made him feel all sorts of scholarly curiosity. Maybe it was partly John's consolidation of power within himself and within Chicago that helped, maybe it was some biological adaptation. Regardless, Harry was - for lack of better term - as relieved as he was apprehensive of the new discovery. ]

[ It'd be best to finish out the night before the topic of last time was ever brought back up. Harry was going to make a point not to mention it - while he was still sore and confused, he was capable of using it as fuel for the flames. It was nice to unwind. ] Yeah. I'll give you that much - just give me a moment, don't go anywhere. [ And he walks off with a faint muttering into the woods, head bent low in search of something. Off in the distance, he could be seen reaching down - and he returns in less than a few minutes with his staff in tow. ] Okay, lead the way.