He moves closer to John with even, quiet steps, until he's directly beside John and pauses, and there's a moment where it looks like he might, might keep walking.

And then he plants a foot on John's chest, heel jammed directly into his diaphragm, and leans his weight to push John back against the ground. Which is followed by him continuing to press his weight as he kneels down, other knee on the floor so he can rest his elbow - with the gun still in hand, still in a white-knuckled grip but slack at the wrist - on the leg pressing into John's ribs.

"Yeah? You got any reasons why he wouldn't thank me?" His voice is still calm, but there's a smile on his face now that absolutely does not meet his eyes. "You killed me. I kinda think I owe you one for that."