The little push, the power of intent before, that was one thing. The rock solid give that to me now sends a visible shiver down John's spine. More in memory of pain than anything, though he can feel the magic resistance stirring in his blood again.
Thank the gods for hard liquor, though, because nothing hurts when he's this far into a bottle. He grins sloppily, watching the bartender come and go again. The little gutpunch of a command makes him vindictive, and he latches onto the things Kilgrave doesn't say. Like some kind of whiskey shark, and the word Jessica is chum he just let swirl out into open waters. Not a good idea. Jessica wanted him to be a hero, John notes. He clearly tried it, for Jessica.
Just sets John's old romantic heart right aflutter.
"Aww, mate. You know the bauble didn't work, right? That's the story. Never could make whatsherface fall back in love." He puts a consoling hand haphazardly on Kilgrave's shoulder just to see if he'll knock it off. What his reaction will be. "But there's always other birds, hey?"
He shouldn't need the medallion either way, but now John is starting to wonder if maybe this Jessica doesn't know a good sound ward or two, herself. Which in turn makes him wonder how he'll fare, if Kilgrave ever gets his mits on a little bit of magical aid for his crooning.
He'd rather not find out. John drops his spent cigarette butt into the glass he's no longer drinking from now that he's upgraded to his own private nicked bottle, and shakes his head a bit. "Did I not give you my business card? Rude of me, that. You should come sometime and see what I get up to, you'd like it. Gets the blood going. It's usually a little more exciting than a spot of attempted domestic homicide."
For Kilgrave!
The little push, the power of intent before, that was one thing. The rock solid give that to me now sends a visible shiver down John's spine. More in memory of pain than anything, though he can feel the magic resistance stirring in his blood again.
Thank the gods for hard liquor, though, because nothing hurts when he's this far into a bottle. He grins sloppily, watching the bartender come and go again. The little gutpunch of a command makes him vindictive, and he latches onto the things Kilgrave doesn't say. Like some kind of whiskey shark, and the word Jessica is chum he just let swirl out into open waters. Not a good idea. Jessica wanted him to be a hero, John notes. He clearly tried it, for Jessica.
Just sets John's old romantic heart right aflutter.
"Aww, mate. You know the bauble didn't work, right? That's the story. Never could make whatsherface fall back in love." He puts a consoling hand haphazardly on Kilgrave's shoulder just to see if he'll knock it off. What his reaction will be. "But there's always other birds, hey?"
He shouldn't need the medallion either way, but now John is starting to wonder if maybe this Jessica doesn't know a good sound ward or two, herself. Which in turn makes him wonder how he'll fare, if Kilgrave ever gets his mits on a little bit of magical aid for his crooning.
He'd rather not find out. John drops his spent cigarette butt into the glass he's no longer drinking from now that he's upgraded to his own private nicked bottle, and shakes his head a bit. "Did I not give you my business card? Rude of me, that. You should come sometime and see what I get up to, you'd like it. Gets the blood going. It's usually a little more exciting than a spot of attempted domestic homicide."