[The hand closes into a fist. Petre's eyes, gaze soft on their non-touch, becomes all the more incisive when it shifts to John's features. There's no softness there when what he gets in return is angles and danger. Maybe it's Petre's own defense mechanism; not letting anyone in while he tries to look right through them.]
no subject
Still afraid of me.
[He retracts, folds his arms over his desk.]