"Too many questions that need an answer..." [ with cyclopticblasts ]

[worldwillendinfire]

The overwhelming emotion of the hour, at least on John's part, was anger. Anger to the point of blinding fury, and anyone that crossed him right now would probably find themselves on the receiving end of learning what it felt like to be the contents of an ashtray. Anyone, that was, except for Scott, because, while John felt he was completely within his rights to be furious with Scott for suggesting John had something to do with Warren's being hurt, he also knew that Scott, like him, would do anything in his power to keep Warren safe.

So he grudgingly had made his way to Scott's office, still angry, still surly and not in the mood for anything aside from sitting in the clinic wing of the mansion and waiting, hoping, and praying for Warren to wake up. But he'd talk to Scott, because at the end of the day, if there was a chance of helping Warren, John wouldn't want to be the reason they couldn't find it. He loved Warren too much to let himself destroy any chances they had of helping him... Even if he knew very little more than the names of the attackers, and what they'd done within the last moments before Warren went crashing over the edge physically, and John had done the same thing mentally.

He sat down on a chair across from where Scott was sitting behind his desk, arms crossed over his chest. "I didn't do it, Scott. I didn't hurt him. And Barry? Dude showed up and fucking did everything he could to help me save him. It was the Brotherhood. I could give you names if you wanted me to. I know who it was. But I don't think names will do any good at this point."