That tore it. The man was not human. No human EVER resisted the Thrall.

Anger bubbled up inside of him. He NEEDED to know who this man, was- this soldier.. this... JOHN.

Without another word, he turned with a great swoosh of his Belstaff and left. It was obvious that he was going to have to get his information another way, so he decided to go home, lick his wounds, and figure out another plan to get to the bottom of whatever this John Watson was.