John needs a cigarette, but it's not good practice to smoke in front of a kid. As frustrating as that is. He lets out a heavy sigh, kneeling down by the bed and peering underneath.

"Come on, love," he drawls gently, and you stubbornly keep yourself tucked under the bed in the dark, curled up. "Those blokes aren't gonna bother you anymore. Come out."

It was hard work adopting a kid, and even harder when you weren't exactly mortal. He didn't want to see you upset though, not if he could help it.