John laughs, teeth stained an ugly, dull red, and he happily takes the proffered half-bottle. He manages to carefully pour himself a mouthful, though he can't avoid dribbling it all over his fingers and chin in the process, then he swishes the fiery liquid around before spitting it out, significantly less clear, onto the ground off to the side. He repeats the process a couple times, until he can't taste the paint anymore.

He downs the rest, which is only a few swallows at that point, before he seems to register that Cas is actually kneeling before him. Wow. He flops back onto his ass, propping his back up against the flat, wooden side of one of the pews, and starts palming his coat pockets for the extremely squished carton of cigarettes.

This was, admittedly, not one of his more impressive showings... but considering that no one present is dead or more damned than they started out, he'll count it as a victory.

He wipes his mouth with the back of the hand he didn't dunk into the paint. "I don't recommend that, by the way." Blood and semen: fine, whatever, he's gotten that in his mouth before, occasionally even on purpose. Lord knows the things he goes around licking, on a daily basis. It's the paint that tastes most vile, alright? "So. Curiosity sated, squire?"