[ he's not flirting but he is to be handled with care. i.e. not handled at all. if she knows what's good for her which no one ever seems to around him. john sighs as he finishes his slice, leaning back on his bum and setting the beer next to him on the ground. he could fall asleep right here, he might while she's gone, honestly. he can think of a few different ways to do what she says, but it's always been easier to track activity than demons directly. safer, too. ]

I had Zed make us a map of all the recent incidents in the Ghost River Triangle. That should give us a place to start.

[ right back to the good old scry map. but he waves her off, if it's a drinking kind of night then it's not a magic kind of night. even if he were inclined to drink and spell after all the mistakes he'd made, he's too knackered from the flight to trust himself anyway. ]

I never turn down a drink from a bird in distress. Call it self-preservation instinct.