If he didn't think so, he wouldn't be here. John didn't waste his time. Or other people's, really. If anything, that was somewhat terrifying: having to recognise every morning that he got up and studied and cooked food and lived a life and actually thought this would work, despite sense and fear and resentment and history. That the thing which kept him from pulling a massive fight and kicking Bobby to the curb was not blind faith, but genuine trust.
"We do," John observed after a pause, because everything else he could possibly say - a glib jibe about how Bobby was nice enough to dislike his friends being attacked, or assuming Em needed their help when Bobby wasn't even in the hero business anymore - would have made things worse. Oh, he still knew what to say, how to cut, but he'd learned to not say things. Instead he just knew he was capable of it, which was....the way things were. Blah blah, John Allerdyce was a horrible human being, blah blah blah.
And while John thought it might reassure Bobby in some way to know that he'd practiced enough in the years since Alcatraz to not just burn and blast away at things, detailing what he was capable of now would probably just bring up everything he had done with his powers. Oh, he was still a killer, he knew that. Certain stains could never be cleaned. But he could also disarm, capture, wound - depending on how callous he felt, he could be quite mean. Just like old times.
Instead he just snuggled in closer to his boyfriend and didn't say anything more. "Thanks. But like I said, she's got some other help." Was it really their job, come to think of it? Bobby was off the team, and John had never been on it. "It's not all up to us, you know?" John had run the moment the mansion had come under attack, washed his hands and tried to get out. Some things didn't change. And if Em didn't want to admit who her mysterious protector was, well. Fuck it. John wasn't gonna stick his neck out for someone keeping secrets from him.
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"We do," John observed after a pause, because everything else he could possibly say - a glib jibe about how Bobby was nice enough to dislike his friends being attacked, or assuming Em needed their help when Bobby wasn't even in the hero business anymore - would have made things worse. Oh, he still knew what to say, how to cut, but he'd learned to not say things. Instead he just knew he was capable of it, which was....the way things were. Blah blah, John Allerdyce was a horrible human being, blah blah blah.
And while John thought it might reassure Bobby in some way to know that he'd practiced enough in the years since Alcatraz to not just burn and blast away at things, detailing what he was capable of now would probably just bring up everything he had done with his powers. Oh, he was still a killer, he knew that. Certain stains could never be cleaned. But he could also disarm, capture, wound - depending on how callous he felt, he could be quite mean. Just like old times.
Instead he just snuggled in closer to his boyfriend and didn't say anything more. "Thanks. But like I said, she's got some other help." Was it really their job, come to think of it? Bobby was off the team, and John had never been on it. "It's not all up to us, you know?" John had run the moment the mansion had come under attack, washed his hands and tried to get out. Some things didn't change. And if Em didn't want to admit who her mysterious protector was, well. Fuck it. John wasn't gonna stick his neck out for someone keeping secrets from him.