"Oi, I resent that," John objected. "I'm a great role model. Just ask my neice. Or Tim Hunter. They've neither of 'em got thrown in jail yet. Least not permanently, nobody can prove a thing..." Though he spoke lightly, John watched the succubus thoughtfully as she sidled toward making her escape, well aware of the past specters this child must conjure for her. For both of them, really--he remembered the day of her bastard half-breed's birth all too vividly, and wondered uneasily what would happen to little Bran the first time he ventured outside Adam's zone of protection.

For the moment, though, the kid was safe enough, and he had to smile at Luna's antics. She seemed a sweet little thing, if a bit of a scatterbrain. "Don't mind her, pet, she's just jealous. Can't carry a tune to save her life."