John closes his eyes and hisses softly, heat shivering out from the sharpness of teeth on his ear. "You're no palooka, Mr. Olyphant. There's talk. There's business. And there's me to keep fellas sweet. Fellas with certain...leanings. Fellas with leanings and influence. Fellas," he opened his eyes, and met Tim's with a wry smile, "like you."