John's brows might have shot up, but he waved his hand, to show the bartender he was fine with that.
"An' I thought our lot had a sick sense of humor. Guess you really did need a drink," It was about as close to a sign of sympathy as Zee should expect- anything more, and it would look far too much like John trying for a rebound. In a backhanded way, his nonchalance was better.
Reaching into his pocket, John pulled out a pack of silk cuts and his lighter, taking one and lighting it, before offering them to Zee.