[He has literally never seen someone else as excited about fire as he gets. It's not just in the exclamation - he recognises the unnatural brightness in Harry's eyes even before the flame illuminates his face from below (an attractive angle for him, which is unusual with light), the jittery movements, the involuntary pull inward even as he appears to know on some level that fire should be driving him back. This isn't a love born from DNA, the constant pulsing of information in his mind and bloodstream, but a completely pure one.
(So he thinks. The energy is just as vital to Harry as the fire itself is to John, but from outside, he just looks like a gleeful pyromaniac. And that is appealing.)
Slowly, John wets his lips, now giving Harry just as close scrutiny. The flame withdraws back into his palm after a moment, and he snuffs it out with his fingers - can't give a child candy whenever they want or they won't appreciate it anymore. Lighter back into his pocket. The show's over.]
You've got good taste. [He smirks lazily, as though it were a compliment about anything he'd been able to control or cultivate himself, not a fluke of genetics.] Weird, now that I think of it - a pyrokinetic who's never met a firebug.
no subject
(So he thinks. The energy is just as vital to Harry as the fire itself is to John, but from outside, he just looks like a gleeful pyromaniac. And that is appealing.)
Slowly, John wets his lips, now giving Harry just as close scrutiny. The flame withdraws back into his palm after a moment, and he snuffs it out with his fingers - can't give a child candy whenever they want or they won't appreciate it anymore. Lighter back into his pocket. The show's over.]
You've got good taste. [He smirks lazily, as though it were a compliment about anything he'd been able to control or cultivate himself, not a fluke of genetics.] Weird, now that I think of it - a pyrokinetic who's never met a firebug.