John doesn't trust the staff for anything. They've got to be controlled or in on it, somehow. They've been absolutely accommodating to him, very patient in general, and that's what scares him the most. He doesn't have a cent to his name, the information he linked on arrival is all false, but they have his real name somehow anyway. And they have to know that the credit card isn't paying for shit at this point...

He's just done with the hotel in general, plopped down on the stairs like a petulant child, glaring at the woman before them. She doesn't look convinced, but her gaze flicks between John and John, and finally she smiles and nods. "Of course sir. Thank you. Please make sure he gets to his room safely. And if you need help, please call for someone. We've assisted Mr. Constantine before."

And with a audible sign of relief, she starts making her way back down the stairs and then turns a corner and goes out of sight. "A bloody menace, that one." He then turns, and grins brightly at Marston. It's such a stupid alcohol gifted expression. "And that's why you're the one to go to when the shit hits the fan. Talk about a poker face, mate. I was ready to boot her." He stumbles to his feet, going down once more in the process, but then he's ready to move. "And now let's continue with..." Another pause comes, he's fumbling for the words he needs. "Our grand expedition."