Johnny took a seat at the ridiculously tiny table that was identical to the one that he had in his room. He made sure that the chair was in a position that he could see every corner of her room so that he could see what she might possibly be getting into.
"Yeah, actually." His brows were knit together, and his whole body was tense. Alcohol didn't effect him like it had when he'd been really alive, but he could get a tingle and the taste alone tended to make him feel better.
The gun stayed in his hand, though. He was a quick draw, and if he'd set it on the table, he was sure he could get it up and pointed at her again before she could get too far in any scheme. But it, too, made him feel better, and he wasn't quite ready to not feel the weight of it in his grip.