The question in Eric's eyes was obvious. John stared back at him for a long moment, face expressionless, and then he let out a sigh himself before pushing off the wall. He walked over to the stool he usually played on and sat, leaning forward till his elbows rested on his knees. His hands clasped in front of him, and he looked up at Eric.
"You know what I am. I prefer to keep my head about me, I don't like being out of control or reckless," he said. His tone had hardened somewhat from the seriousness of the topic. It was closer to how he'd spoken in the army. "Sometimes... shit happens. That's what I am. There's a hunger in me and it isn't nice. It takes me a while to clear my head after. To change back."
He paused for a moment, jaw squared. He wasn't going to apologize. He'd been up front with Eric, at least about himself. But it didn't mean he didn't regret the way things had gone, or the way Eric looked at him now. It was, overall, quite frustrating.
He pushed himself up and leaned back on the stool. "I understand if you don't want me around anymore. It could happen again. Depending on the blood, it could drive me insane. There are other forces that could make me turn on you in a heartbeat. It doesn't matter knowing what it would feel like later, when I'm myself again. I wish it wasn't that way, but that's it."