John smiles and nods, his smile stretching his many scars. He sat back and said very little, listening to the women talking and playing with a small rusted key with the initials WB wrought into the head. He holds the key like a vital thing, both gingerly and with no chance of it being snatched. Though he'd never tell anyone that key led to a chest with two shares of the Great Southern Railway Heist of '24, his own and that belonging to the original owner of the key. He smiled slightly 'like he needs that money' he thinks, a wicked grin spreading across his face.