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John Wick was just as amazing as Zero imagined he would be. Cold, collected and powerful. Physically, the man was actually smaller and skinnier than most of the assassins that came after him but that didn't stop the Baba Yaga. He could easily see the man killing someone with only a pencil. Even now as he recovered, John could and probably would easily take down most assassins.
His students didn't seem to understand his administration of the force that was John Wick. But as he watched the man who now sat on his bed, rebandaging his wound, Zero knew. He was right to worship John Wick. How else could he still be alive?
"What?"
Zero looked up to see Mr. Wick staring at him, less annoyed than usual.
"Oh I was just thinking. Tell me Mr. Wick, were you ever in the American army? Those tattoos," he pointed to the Latin phrase scribed on his arm. Semper Fi, do or die, "most Marines get them, yes?"
"You ask way too many questions." John finished wrapping his chest wounds and pulled his undershirt over. "Don't you have anything better to do than staring at my chest?"
"Not really." John got up and Zero filled course behind as the man from the alley watched the two laughing. "Wait Mr. Wick, where are you going? You're stored to lay down. What if you get-," The man was abruptly cut off by the man grabbing him by the face and pressing their lips together. Zero froze as John pulled away before turning around.
"Now will you finally shut up?"