"I thought I just wasn't used to all the noise," John said, shrugging slightly. He didn't think he'd learn to enjoy all of the sensory overload, but he was already acclimating. He was fairly certain a full belly would make the new experience easier.
The prospect of not rationing blood was definitely appealing, too. He was well accustomed to the pit of hunger in his belly, but it wasn't a welcome state.
He looked up at the bar as they approached, and listened to the others' instructions. He nodded, then absently touched the keys in his pocket. "If it's alright with you, I'll bring a few things. This place... I woke up in my old apartment. But it's not a very safe house." He still wanted to see if his guitar was there, or if there were a few other trinkets. He had no way of knowing if it was actually his things, but it was as likely as not, and the items in his old home had seemed as real as anything else.
Still, given the circumstances, he was happier to loot his old home of a few trinkets and be nearer to his makers and siblings. He'd grown accustomed to being around more people, even if it was trying on his patience at times. And having readily accessible blood, especially with no risk to living beings, was definitely appealing.
"I'm sure Pam already has a few ideas on who I'd get along with," he said easily, glancing at his maker, trying to read his mood. Eric had always been good to him, but it didn't seem like it had been very easy for him either.
He looked at the building, then turned to his sire, inhaling deeply. Eric wasn't the only one hanging on to human signals.
"I won't do anything to embarass you, in front of the others," he said, intending to sound sure of himself and determined. When he heard his own voice, he found it far less assertive than he'd intended, and a long dormant anxiety between himself and a father figure bit at him, darkening his expression and tightening his jaw as he spoke. He wouldn't let another father remember him with scorn or shame.