John only snorted at the idea of asking around for a wizard and rummaged around in the many pockets of his coat again, not really looking for his cigarettes, but happy enough to put one in his mouth when he found one before uncovering a bit of chalk. And going at it drawing a symbol on the wall with zero explanation.
"Lita and Bowie," he said fondly, because hey, there was another thing they had in common. It was always nice to have options. "And I'm not comparing them. I'm saying in terms of paving the way musically, she's got The Runaways beat."