John shakes his head again, having long since gotten used to eliciting that sort of response from people. He doesn't speak much, so people assume he's a good listener, and he knows with some people that assumption would be wrong, but not in this case. It's part of what makes him such a good interrogator, the ability to really sit and hear what people are saying, what they're trying to say even if those specific words don't come out. Reid is telling him about his job, about the ways in which it can be difficult and satisfying, but he's telling him, too, about the man who helped establish him as part of the FBI. The man who helped him discover a way to deal with the difficult parts without letting them get to be too much.

"I was military," he says, this part of the story easy enough to tell without revealing too much, especially in a place like Darrow. The Machine doesn't exist here. Samaritan isn't coming after them. There is no Control, no one coming for him, for Finch, and so John can talk about some things without having to lie. "For a long time, actually, and after the military, I was recruited by the CIA, but once I retired, I didn't know what to do with myself. You see so much and you do so much that trying to go back to a regular life seems impossible. I ended up living on the streets. Drinking too much. Then I met a man who became my best friend and he told me what I needed was purpose."

And it comes down to the same thing. Why they do this. Purpose. Keeping the monsters from as many people as they can. It all means the same.

"We have purpose here, Agent Reid," he says and offers another faint smile. "You're doing what's right. Sometimes it just takes a little time."