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Jon's hesitant to leave Elias' office and no, it was certainly not because he wanted to be in the man's presence anymore than necessary. The state Elias drove Martin into, ready to sacrifice himself on the chance at something changing, that haunted Jon more than he liked to admit. It felt like a barely dodged bullet, which felt like most things these days, really.

No, his hesitance was more an uncertainty of what to do now. He dropped off the radar, from Georgie and Martin, for five days and he could only imagine how they'd both react. At least he left Georgie a note when he left to stay with Martin, she had some idea, even if it was a vague one. Martin, on the other hand, he didn't contact at all.

Yes, that... was a mistake. He knew that.

It seemed like a small thing to worry about in the grand scheme of things- people were dead, he was turning into a monster, Basira and Daisy were now tied to it and, it turns out, Elias had a kill switch to keep them all in line. Now that he saw Tim it was pretty obvious he wasn't doing well and, if Jon was going to be honest with himself, unlikely to last if all he heard was true. 'Feed your god or it feeds on you.' Tim certainly looked... lesser.

"Jon?" Elias' tone is pointed, and Jon sighs. He doesn't bother any sort of goodbye as he goes out.

He wonders, briefly, if he could avoid Martin and just... go take this statement now. He didn't want to, not really, avoid Martin at least. He sort of wanted to just convince Martin to put off everything that needed to be said so they could go to bed and just sleep, have Martin close. Maybe take the statement first, the urge was strong.

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Jon snorts- yeah, he could already see that clearly. She wouldn't even be wrong to, if they were living anything like a normal life Jon would agonize endlessly over the breach of protocol, assuming they made it this far. A very, very different time, to be sure.

"She will every single time we come in together. Once she's done badgering me about injuries I'm sure I'll get an earful. I don't know why everyone assumes I'm so much older than you." He huffs, and honestly the idea of being badgered over something so mundane wasn't bad at all. "Well, that's one thing settled out of dozens. Come on, you need to eat."

"Well, they might not, soon," Martin mutters a little darkly, and he rolls his face back into the pillow. "Found a gray hair the other day. I just turned thirty, Jon. It's like it was actually waiting for me. You're able to pull it off, but no one looks good with gray hair and a baby face."

He exhales long with a little frown, before he sits up and groans with the stiffness in his limbs.

"Anyway, um, speaking of settling things- I know you've been on the run, I guess, for a while- but - I'm assuming you do still have your flat?"

Jon's brow raises and he walks back over to regard Martin's hair. Unsurprisingly he runs his hand through it, which he tends to do given the chance. "That remains to be seen. I think it could be rather charming."

Shame those greys were probably because of how bullshit life was. He heads for the door, intent on actually getting food going as he calls to answer. "I think I should still have it, unless Detective Tonner pulled something heinous or... I don't know, some otherworld force has started squatting. A real possibility, knowing my luck." Sigh. "Going over there and getting things in order is part of the very long list of things I need to do. I don't suppose you'd want to come with me when I do?"

"I pulled it out," he confesses, and he sounds a little embarrassed by his own vanity. "Sure, I can live in this- miserable world where we're for some reason the- last bastion against the supernatural evil changing the world, but I'm not ready for gray hair."

Reluctantly, though, he climbs out of bed to get up and follow him.

"And yeah, um, I can go with you. I was sort of wondering how you'd feel about me bringing... more of my stuff?"

Jon does stop to give Martin a proper look for that, shaking his head. "I'll save my judgement, but know it is there. Next you'll tell me you're going to dye your hair when it really starts going grey."

Once in the kitchen he goes for the sandwiches Martin left in the fridge, not particularly interested in one handed cooking when a meal was already available. Before he could ask if Martin wanted that or not Martin's question gives him pause and he glances over.

"Well yes, I- I would like that very much." He turns back to the fridge. "You ah, you can stay as often as you like. I did give you a key for a reason, you know."

Martin can feel his face heat up for a multitude of reasons, even as he settles down at a seat at the small table in his kitchen. "First of all, yes, I absolutely am going to dye my hair when it starts to all go. And secondly, um-"

He watches Jon at the fridge for a moment, before tiredly scrubbing at one of his own eyes.

"By some of my stuff I sort of meant. All of my stuff? Maybe? I don't have a billion things, honest."

Jon had plenty of teasing left for the hair conversation, but thankfully the moving in part of their discussion was definitely more important and distracting. "You want to move in?" He shouldn't be surprised, honestly, given everything it was a pretty natural step. Just last night he admitted Martin was all he had so really, not shocking?

But he still is, a little, though he's quick to nod. "Yes, I mean- of course. If it gets you out of this neighborhood and this dreadful apartment, no offense to the place." That's a lie, full offense. "I suppose I don't have to warn you living with me might be more dangerous for you, given everything going on."

Martin snorts at that last part, shaking his head as he reclines his head tiredly on his arms on the table. "I'd rather it be a little more dangerous, honestly, if it means I'm able to keep a better eye on you. I think the most detrimental thing to my health so far has been worrying myself sick over you, if I'm gonna be honest here."

It's you, Jon. You were the cause of that gray hair.

"Anyway." He turns his face to yawn into his wrist. "Sandwiches."

"It- honestly Martin, go back to sleep, you don't need to be up." Jon interrupts himself to nag before heading back to his task. "I'm afraid people like Jude Perry would prove far more detrimental, but here's to hoping we keep work and homelife somewhat separate." He'd rather Martin keep all his grey hairs rather than be burnt alive or something.

He grabs the sandwiches, placing them on the table and within Martin's easy reach before going to get napkins and the like. "Is there ah... anything large here you'd like to bring? I mean take no issue if you'd prefer my flat arranged differently. It's ah- it's going to be your home too, as it were."

"I'm fine, Jon, people yawn sometimes when they're waking up." He blinks drowsily at him, before straightening up to reach for his sandwich, unwrapping it slowly. "And just- my laptop? That probably doesn't count as a 'large item,' does it. I'm not really attached to much of my stuff. Spend half a year away from it and you break any attachments pretty quick."

He pauses, then takes a bite.

"--you don't think this is a terrible idea, do you? I just thought- I'm rather used to having you around all the time."

"And some people didn't sleep as well as they should have last night." Jon offers in reproach, though he hands Martin a bottle of water and joins him. "Fair enough. I suppose you've spent enough time over to know the ins and outs of my flat."

He considers Martin's question a few moments before shaking his head. "I honestly don't think we have enough information to know but... if we're talking purely what we want then I think it's a splendid idea. I'm- I want you around. I want you to move in. Outside forces concern me but I don't want us to have to keep our distance to keep safe."

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