Johnny looked down at the table, thinking about what Mary had just said. He supposed that it did make sense, in the long run, but he'd not yet come to think of himself as supernatural. Though, really, what else was he?
He took in a deep breath and let it out quickly, then looked back up.
"I guess I just really haven't let myself consider what it means that I'm not going to die or grow old."
That he might have been drawn to York because of the Hellmouth and its apparent call to the unnatural did bother him. It just proved everything that Mary had said to him, not that he'd ever doubted her. Really, it was akin to being hit in the head with a hammer, when he should have been paying attention to the feather that was tapping at him lightly.