No— but— what? Lyra stared at Little John with a level of intensity born from, well, from every little thing that'd surprised her today. Was he serious? (Alright, she had no reason to doubt him, but that didn't stop her reeling.) And then Avery made that face and Lyra looked back at him in bewilderment, it took her a second to gather herself to mouth what the fuck? at him and by then he'd turned to get the wine.
But maybe it was lucky that he had missed it. He was the one who was supposed to understand weird abduction stuff the most, and she wanted him on her side, and maybe you shouldn't mouth what the fuck at people you wanted support from.
His of course just made her brows knit tighter together though, but... in his favour, at least he'd bought her wine? And was sort of backing her up? Even if it totally sounded like an afterthought and also, like she wasn't even in the room. "Is that really a thing?" she asked Little John, cuz she didn't know how to deal with Avery right this second. (She did know how to deal with her wine, knocking back a full half of it in one swift go, and gripping the glass in both hands, holding it against her chest like it could join forces with the necklace and sort shit out for her.)
"Would have been, once upon a time," Little John said, raising his glass in thanks to the pair of them, but telling the story was more important than drinking the wine. "Time was, a churchyard would have kept the fey out for sure. Belief changes, though, and we change with it. These days, in this city, I couldn't be sure. I'm not saying you didn't see anything, not at all," he added, to Lyra, who pressed her glass against her mouth as she tried to decide how patronised she felt. "And I couldn't tell you how your night in the cemetery lined up with our fight against Rathellion – maybe it was before he died, we just can't know that. All I can tell you is that you're not going to be seeing him again."
"But—" Lyra protested, releasing one hand from its grip on her glass so she could flourish it about in frustration. "Somethin' was there! And somethin's supposeda be coming! I've been feelin' it for ages, even Rosario's sensin' it, somethin' is waiting. Are you sure he's dead?"
"Sure as anything," Little John said, who'd had the exact same question, several times, from a concerned Cecil before he left. "I wouldn't have left Elaine alone with the kids there if I thought there was even the slightest risk from him. He's gone. Very very gone."