There wasn't much that John couldn't stand. He'd stood sifting through the dead that night, despite what he might have found. He'd stood all the time in between, and he was sure he would have stood finding Harlow undead and lifeless though he didn't know what he'd have done after ending him. But he could almost not stand the feel of Harlow's skin, the shape of his bones, underneath his fingers. And he definitely couldn't stand knowing what he now was sure he knew.
With a sudden final snap of things breaking down, John let go though none of the crackling white lightning energy dissipated with it. More, it just ricocheted without that point of contact to focus it. "Apparently," he said, and behind them both even Adelaide flinched. "Not."
Then his expression changed, darkening and narrowing further, if it was possible. "You set the fire," he said aloud as he realized it, not at all posing it as a question.