Rhainn's reaction to the situation was most decidedly unexpected. John was far too accustomed to people who brushed off proof of demons staring them in the face as something else. Something normal. Drugs tended to be everyone's favored explanation. That person wasn't possessed by a minion of hell, they were just high. Never mind that it was a seven year old girl. She as on acid.
He took his time in lighting another cigarette, letting her question hang between them. With the stick burning between his lips he inspected the remains of his pack. Four left. He would need to stop on his way back to the hotel. He could hunt down that demon and be heading back to LA before he needed another pack after that. Or so he hoped.
He pulled the cigarette from his lips to speak. "What you fought was a guy who's had a very bad day." With the words, a cloud of smoke puffed out of his mouth.
The bartender set the glass down on the bar in front of John, who picked it up almost immediately. The angel was warning him, as he took a long draw from the glass. But that angel knew John by reputation alone, and the last two hours which he'd spent drinking in the corner. He certainly had a wide range of sources of information available to him, and they all told him that John tended to be something of a loose cannon. So maybe he took some things a little personally. But who wouldn't when Lucifer himself was saving a seat for you?
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