Fin

He could never catch a fucking break. Honestly. There was no other explanation. It simply stood to reason that the one thing he needed, he needed help to get. And not just any help. Fae help. And John knew that none of the fae who knew him would want to help.

And so he picked Fin, who probably wasn't as murderous toward him as some of the others. Probably.

He hung about outside the stage door. An overhead light buzzed as he leaned against the wall beneath it, smoking his way through a new pack.