John hadn't been handling things terribly well since the last message he received from Scarlet. He didn't know her terribly well but he still felt her loss none the less. He knew it wasn't his fault, but he felt guilty. Like there was something he could have done. Really, a part of him knew something was going to go wrong with the new childs birth. What she went through should not have been possible. But then again, Gods of death had children...But a ghost giving birth to life? It should never have been...
The Englishman had decided to go and visit Bryn's other club for a bottle of gin. Bryn had told him where to find the things he would need from time to time and he wanted a few drinks. He didn't even make it to the club, but rather stopped at one of the shops not too far from the club. There was a lot of noise. What sounded like thing smashing. What was going on?
Carefully, John moved closer, as quiet as he could manage. And then the table came flying through the window. John ducked, thankfully avoiding being struck by the table but did get hit with flying shards of glass. He stood up, sweeping himself off to notice a familiar warm feeling on his face. He had been cut. One cut on his cheek and one on his forehead. There was a sip in the left arm of his trench coat and another small cut but otherwise he was unharmed. "What the bloody hell was that for....?!" he shouted, cut off when he stepped forward and saw Bryn on her knees, weeping. All the anger left him as he stepped through broken window, and walked over to kneel down beside her. "Come here, luv" he said, moving to give her a hug, hoping it would bring some comfort.