John's used to skepticism. Maybe not the same kind of skepticism that Marcus faces, but it's easy to doubt magic. At the assessment of his house John rolls his eyes. Sure, the every wall thing was an exaggeration on his part, but the Vatican? Nowhere close.
Sometimes it was better to explain with actions rather than words. In response to Marcus' question, John does not speak, but instead quickly finishes the rest of his drink. Then he reaches into a coat pocket to retrieve what looks like a small coil of thick string stained with blood.
With a loose grip John holds the string between thumb and forefinger and gives it a flick. Instantly both ends of the string flick outward and tightly coil around John's left wrist and Marcus' right. The bind continues to wrap around their wrists, pulling the pair closer together until the sides of their hands touch. The binding is tight, uncomfortable, and unbreakable.
"That I reckon."
He tosses Marcus his own lazy, smug grin before inclining his head toward a table where two other men currently enjoy their own drinks.
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Sometimes it was better to explain with actions rather than words. In response to Marcus' question, John does not speak, but instead quickly finishes the rest of his drink. Then he reaches into a coat pocket to retrieve what looks like a small coil of thick string stained with blood.
With a loose grip John holds the string between thumb and forefinger and gives it a flick. Instantly both ends of the string flick outward and tightly coil around John's left wrist and Marcus' right. The bind continues to wrap around their wrists, pulling the pair closer together until the sides of their hands touch. The binding is tight, uncomfortable, and unbreakable.
"That I reckon."
He tosses Marcus his own lazy, smug grin before inclining his head toward a table where two other men currently enjoy their own drinks.
"I don't know. Might be of some use in a fight."