If there was one thing John knew how to read like a book, it was attitude, and that seemed to be all the woman was throwing at him here. Huge amounts of it, enough to knock a lesser person back, but all attitude rather than anger or, worse, actual threat. She probably didn't tend to need much more than attitude to get her way; she was hot, really hot, and had that strident way of demanding what she wanted with complete confidence and entitlement that you (or at least he) didn't see much from women.

So far, he was very much annoyed, but also intrigued.

"I didn't need the big, over the top song and dance just to say you know Elliot," John sighed, slumping back into the couch from where he'd been perched right on the edge of his seat. "Drama queen. The guy's paranoid as shit, anyway, why would you break in like that if he's your friend? Really big help, that'll make him stop jumping at shadows."

He coaxed Flipper back into his lap and started to scratch her idly behind the ears, eyes still fixed on Darlene. This was his own sort of song and dance right back at her, of course, but he was king of the hypocrites: not a great actor either, since he still looked and sounded more like a peevish kid than anyone who'd even begun to approach above it all.

"I'm here 'cause Elliot invited me. I'm homeless and I guess he got sick of me crashing on his front step, I dunno, he gave me some food and said I could stay here for a bit." The answer was delivered in too baffled a tone to be a particularly good lie, and sure enough, his expression slowly shifted to the same deep confusion as he said it. "Maybe you get why he'd do it, I sure as hell don't."