John settled into that embrace with a weary sigh, feeling worn out and tired beyond his years. The sour mess of emotion in him had burst and left him empty and drained. "So I got to trade having an infamous reputation for having you, huh?" He reached to run a hand down Bobby's arm, entwining their fingers together. "Pretty decent trade."

Taking another breath, he mentally scouted around for something else to say, a way of reaffirming. "Yeah. We'll take care of each other. And Em, and any other wonderful freak who needs it. And I am definitely not gonna end up in a cell." That was certain, voice low and heavy with emotion. Part of him thought he'd burn down all of London before letting them do that to him - to any mutant - again. Except which other mutant had killed as many people as he had?

"Em does think it's to do with her dad. The one here, I mean." That was an admission, and one he knew probably would have saved them all a lot of bother if he'd mentioned it about five minutes ago. But he refused to reveal the exact depth of his fear and worry: Bobby didn't need to know that, didn't need to see him like that. He was the strong one now, wasn't he? He wasn't about to go blubbering about how prison had broken him, because he wasn't fucking broken.