Harlow never failed to react, to become a blur of motion and words and attitudes, and John could have watched it forever. It didn't matter that he wanted to crack him over the head more than half the time, that he simply didn't have the proper feelings in himself to be kind, even to the person he loved beyond anything and craved like air, or that he found him exhausting even while he wanted more. When he sneered through the bars John shifted - not a step or even a lean, but a gravitation, like his parts strained towards Harlow while he held back. It was as threatening as it was magnetic.
"Only half a mind?" he jeered, but then when Harlow made the comment about his legs he gritted his teeth, and his eyes cut sideways to Adelaide, fierce. "Shortcake has a big mouth," he observed sharply.
The poised little doll of a girl gazed back at him, a chilly look on her face and a frown line between her brows. "You can thank me later," she murmured, while her brow lifted.