Johns felt like laughing. The look on Riddick's face was priceless.
"You're not here to kill me or take me back to SLAM." Riddick said.
"You want me to?" Johns asked, knowing the answer to both. Riddick snorted and shrugged off the debris that had exploded from the wall beside him. Then he cocked his head and smiled.
"Then what're you doin' here?" He asked. Johns slung the shotgun over his shoulder. He leaned back on the dresser and sucked a breath in through his teeth.
"I was just in the neighborhood."
Riddick crossed his arms, obviously waiting for Johns to say more. Johns didn't know what he wanted to say. He had intended to kill the son of a bitch.
Johns knew better than to think that they could just change the rules of the game. If it had been anyone other than Richard B. Riddick, Johns never would have entertained the thought.
But Riddick was different. He had become some sort of obsession, and Johns had forgotten, just for a moment, just how dangerous Riddick was. A near fatal error.
He wouldn't forget again.
"I wasn't tryin' to kill you."
Riddicks' voice startled Johns out of his thoughts.
"You sure about that?" Johns asked.
"You're not dead." Riddick smiled again.
Funny, Johns thought. Out loud, he said:
"Neither are you."
"Touche."
Johns looked away from Riddick then, needing to figure out what in the world he was doing here. Hell of a time to decide, but what the hell. Before and after Riddick established the change in their 'relationship', Johns had been the one to initiate contact time and time again. There was no way to tell if what they had was real, or if Johns had let himself be manipulated into not turning Riddick in. He had once told Riddick that he was tired of chasing him which was ironic, because it was all Johns had done since then, albeit for a different reason.
There was also the possibility that Riddick liked the chase as much as Johns did. It made sense. On the other hand, Johns had to wonder if he had spent the past few years doing what he wanted to do, or what Riddick wanted him to do.
Fuck.
He was tired of trying to figure Riddick out. Let Riddick figure him out for a change. If Riddick wanted to play by new rules, then that was just fine by Johns.
Without warning, he brought the shotgun back up into position and fired the second round. It hit Riddick just below the knee. Johns didn't stay to watch Riddick scream or curse. He pushed off the dresser and left the room, softly closing the door behind him. Riddick was in a world of hurt. That was enough.
For now.