He can see the way Charlie is packing this whole fiasco up in a little box to shove in the back of the wardrobe. He can also see how Charlie is avoiding looking at him at all, and the pit in his stomach goes from a stumble to a broken neck, and his mouth presses tight as he glances down rather than face that nothing of a wallpaper reaction.

Which means he's glancing down at his own hands, relieved in no small way that most of the blood on them is his own, and at John's tentacles wrapped around him - and then suddenly he's grappling them, running his hands along them to try and find the bite mark he knows he left thanks to the ache still lingering in his jaw. "Fuck- John, do you know where the disinfectant is?"