Howard doesn't seem to relax any when John puts his hands away. He's jumpy, tired, running on empty though he's trying not to look it. The memory of being stabbed in the last arena by someone he'd discounted as a threat is still fresh.
"Whatever. I needed the exercise."
He lifts one foot slightly, then puts it back down, deciding not to make a run for it. He tries to read John's expression and body language, try to piece together an idea of the man in front of him. Someone who doesn't respond to being spied on with anger: either someone with nothing to hide or who's good enough at hiding it that the cracks don't show. Vigilant enough to keep track of the people around him. Probably not in the last arena. John didn't immediately check his pockets so he hasn't pegged Howard as a pickpocket, or is comfortable enough in his own situational awareness to not need to reassure himself - or isn't carrying anything on him.
Criminal? Police force? Military? Howard can't tell.
no subject
"Whatever. I needed the exercise."
He lifts one foot slightly, then puts it back down, deciding not to make a run for it. He tries to read John's expression and body language, try to piece together an idea of the man in front of him. Someone who doesn't respond to being spied on with anger: either someone with nothing to hide or who's good enough at hiding it that the cracks don't show. Vigilant enough to keep track of the people around him. Probably not in the last arena. John didn't immediately check his pockets so he hasn't pegged Howard as a pickpocket, or is comfortable enough in his own situational awareness to not need to reassure himself - or isn't carrying anything on him.
Criminal? Police force? Military? Howard can't tell.
"What's your District?"