Adelaide handed the gun over, keeping out of reach of the man on the ground, though he was eerily still now with the blackest of expressions on his face that Addie had ever seen. His eyes moved from the gun to her face, simply because he could tell that it would piss the man off.
"Your friend doesn't appreciate my interest in your local artist," he told her, each word like a chip of ice as he nodded towards the wall. "Where is he?" he asked, and there was no doubt that he wanted to know where the artist was - and it didn't sound like he wanted to shake his hand, either.
Adelaide glanced upwards and saw Harlow's painting high above, and then back down to John on the ground. "I think maybe that's a concern for another time," Adelaide said, almost matching his tone for chill, which was saying something. There was a jolt of concern for Harlow, but she didn't have near enough information to make a guess at what this all was about. "Jims, would you like me to get some rope?"