John sucked down the very last, sweet, lungful of the tobacco, and flicked it away from him. His eyes swept over the forest around the house and, no, he didn't like it either. It looked...just about as menacing as a forest could look. The sky wasn't any better. Still, he was the John Constantine, after all--no matter what Midnite said. So there was a moment where hung back, stayed on the porch, glancing between Rain and Chas.
"After you."
And John set out. Righting the coat around his shoulders and checking his tie, John strode out away from the main doors toward the foreboding wood that stretched around the mansion grounds on all sides. He didn't even bother to announce anything. What was there to announce? They were going into the woods. No matter how long they dallied around the front door, they were going to go there. So why waste time talking about it anymore. That's all they'd really done this morning. Waste time talking.