"I do alright," John said in a way that very much implied exactly what he wasn't saying. He was worth his salt. He considered it though, whether or not it was strange to have potential that wasn't being used but -- for the most part it wasn't. Even in sometimes the worst situations back home, John had deferred to skills other than magic to save his own ass. Mostly by talking instead. Sure, he made his own luck and that wasn't just some parlor trick, but he liked to think he was just clever, most days. "Less people dead lately," he admitted instead, in a moment of hard truth. "Can't say it's a tragedy to go without, some days."
He nodded thoughtfully, picking up his juice for a drink -- very fruity, indeed. "Figured as much," he said, because it'd been pretty obvious, when Dan had gone poking. "I know a bit about those things. Maybe not as much as you." Psychic stuff was a gamble and not usually somewhere he liked to go, certainly it was harder than telekinetics and the rest -- but it was also pretty easy to ward off. Not that he was bothering just now. Dan wasn't prying.
He was show off, though. Which John liked quite a lot. So he did the same -- drawing a little symbol on the table with the condensation from the glass and then moving the bottle to cover it. From there, his cup simply filled itself. "The dead feel like they're entitled to every last word they were never given," he said carefully. Sometimes, John tended to agree, even if he didn't want to. Then again, sometimes it was his fault.