Mathias was getting under the skin. It was bound to happen when they were trapped in a town too long without any comfort. Rather, limited comfort. He finishes off his cigarette before dropping it onto a ashtray that is on the counter. If it looked familiar? It was because he nicked it from Town Hall.

There was a tch at the mention of Doc - as he had pieced together that John Henry was the same man. Ah, what context could do. He pressed his lips together as his face rolled into a scowl. That would be all he would do about that though. No point in causing more of an issue for the good Marshal.

"Thing," John repeated. Oh, it was obvious what thing meant in this context. Christ, when did he become the man to give relationship advice? Not that John thought it was much of a relationship anyways. Not like that. Puppy dog bullshit. "Yeah? So, he's given you the puppy dog eyes. Raylan, we're dealing with some supernatural force that trapped us all in a bloody town, and you're worrying about what to tell a man like you're the height of being a bloody teenager?"

Not once ever did John Constantine say he was good at this. People.

"You got two choices, mate. You either tell him you're not interested and it's nice and all that, but you've got a little cowboy on the way and a woman back home. Or, you shut up and shag the man." John shrugged. "Me? I'd go with the first option. Then again, ah, nosy question askers aren't really my type. Maybe it's yours."