On instinct, he reaches for a ceremonial dagger, left atop a nearby chest of drawers for a rather easy to understand reason; cut down every nasty bastards that makes a break for freedom from the chalk circle he’s carefully drawn. But, at this moment in time, the circle remains inactive, the candles placed at each point of the star drawn within its circumference unlit. No, the threat that closes in on the foul mouthed brit would approach from behind, a man he knew well enough to fill it within himself to relax to some degree. Exhaling an exasperated sigh, John leaves the dagger where it sits, grumbling expletive nothings to himself before half-turning, looking behind himself. Only to spy Blackheart’s scheming son filling the doorway, noting, rather pensively, that he appeared to be more at home in the darkness of his electricity depraved apartment than he himself was.
“Christ, Ky. Don’t ya ever think of knockin’ first?”
Ky’s orginal plan was to go undetected until he was able to fully explain why he was here. Of course, that was thrown out the window, and all due to the fact John had detected him long before he was ready. It was something that more than likely wasn’t going to help his case in all reality. Oh, well, it wasn’t the first time Ky managed to get himself caught up in a bind like this. Nor would it be the last, but the problem was he this wasn’t just a chat. No, that would have been done in a far more public place, but Ky had been known to this before… showing up at random hours to request something. “You wouldn’t… have answered,” he said, leaning on the doorway, and grasping a quite open wound on his side. “…. Especially not now.”
Hellfirebound 