“ YOU’RE ONE CREEPY FUCK, anyone ever tell you that? ” though it’s said with a snort and a smirk, the words are harsh and humorless, the drink in his hand sparking his aggression. some nights there’s nothing to do, no one to burn— lending to a restlessness that drinking hasn’t served as a cure for, for a while now. it’s not like he has much to lose anymore though, not after the way the war went; no, all he has left is the chance bobby gave him, a chance he’s still not sure he deserved. “ it’s the glasses, ” john squints, gesturing vaguely at the guy. “ got that pervy glint. or maybe that’s just your smarmy face. ”