John might be a vanilla mortal, but he had been thrown into the deep end of the pool the moment he had become Baron. For that, Harry also felt responsible. He was responsible, since his signature had been on the paperwork. Of course, the ever-resourceful "gentleman" had figured out how to make the odds work in his favor, or at least make it look like they were. That was why John was good. Harry kept his mouth shut until they got into the elevator - after a moment's protest, because while the thing looked like and shivered like something from the 1920s, and while Harry had rode it once for safe measure, it didn't mean he liked the thing at all.

It had him sandwiched between the metal grille and his companion, looking at the ceiling because there wasn't much else to do without making things awkward.

He took off his duster in the apartment, only to keep it within eyesight (Darkness, you know?). "I would point out that I'm not a murderer," he replied testily. "Despite that our history hasn't really put us on the same side, we are now. If you're unhappy with the obvious power and influence that would give me over you, regardless of my intentions--." Harry pauses and tries not to make it sound like he's chewing glass with his words: "I could trade you. Equal value. I really don't want a repeat of last night, okay? I couldn't find you."