Trust issues, no name, 'Winter Soldier', assassin, handlers - past tense, claustrophobic... Alright. John's piecing together bits and pieces, based on the dribs and drabs Craig is giving him. He slips out of the elevator just as it closes behind him, nearly clipping the tail of his trenchcoat, and stays standing, unmoving between Craig and the stairs.

"Alright love," John says, voice dropping to a gentle but firm tone. He has a calming spell up his sleeve - he has a lot of spells up his sleeve - but using magic from the get-go usually doesn't turn out so well.

"You're alright." He can't promise that there's no hydras here. He's seen some weird shite even when he hasn't ingested a whole bowl of ayahuasca. A hydra could be waiting in the men's loo waiting to attack them with all its heads flying out the door. But he can be a little bit serious for a little while, just try and get Craig to a slightly better headspace. People who are scared and unpredictable and have nothing to lose are far more dangerous than any hydras, angels or demons he's ever gone toe to toe with.

"Well I came here alone. I presume you came here alone. Let's say... Hydra isn't here. And nobody's going to find you, put you in a wee cage. You don't have to do what anyone else wants you to do. You're on a boat, somewhere nobody can find you, and you're free. What do you want to do?"