And John should've seen it. Perhaps would have if he elected to be in Dresden's company for more than a five minute span lately. He knows the man so well, it's almost like the wizard's temperament is an extension of himself. If he'd noticed Dresden's stress becoming so stark-- but he didn't, and thinking about it will do nothing.

John barks a laugh at the thought. "There aren't any traffic cops out in the Darkness, Dresden," John informs him. He's driven late in the evening and knows that people don't pull you over for a ticket when the sirens are starting up. "Hang on." Hang in there.

John fucking vaults onto the bike and tears them away from the curb, taking the turn as wide as he can, thinking of Dresden's leg. As soon as the front wheel is pointed towards the Tower, he accelerates so hard, the front wheel lifts an inch off the ground before thumping back down.

Here it comes, the darkness that has its own weight to it. It's slow, but it's coming, and John cannot force the engine to go faster than it already is. He hates this fucking island, this Darkness, and the way Dresden seems to be having problems holding his head up. He is not losing his goddamned wizard. Not like this.