John's hand at his back is almost too much, even though it's hardly anything at all. He shifts on his feet slightly, feeling almost too hot in the warm weather gear he's still mostly wearing, and he can only imagine the flush on his face in turn. He tips his head back to thunk against the wall again and swallows thickly, trying to keep a grip on himself.

Which is about the time he notices the pair of Nadril natives across the room. He is supposed to be keeping a lookout after all.

His fingers tightening convulsively in the back of John's shirt, he tips his head back against the side of the other man's head. "John," he hisses urgently into the other man's ear. "Hurry up. I think we've got an audience." Whatever he needs to do, just do it quickly. Hopefully if he's fast enough, perhaps their onlookers might lose interest. Maybe.