The Balladeer snorts, allowing himself to be ushered over to a seat. He hadn't thought he looked as bad as all that, but he certainly isn't going to argue.

"Not really." Does he actually have any idea how he likes tea? He picks up the honey and looks at it for a second, before squeezing a random amount in. There; he takes his tea with honey now. The spoon clinks against the sides of the cup as he stirs it in, watching the liquid spiral around for a few moments before confessing: "I've been trying to figure out what's going on with Johnny."

Greta doesn't think that's his business, he knows. The Balladeer would argue that point. If someone's going to prove a danger to others, he thinks it's the business of anyone around with some kind of ability to head it off. Mind, he isn't certain that Johnny's going to threaten anybody, but...well, that's why he's been looking into it more. He just has no idea what's going on there, besides the fact that it's unnerving as hell.

Besides, he's got a very good memory for music. It's far too late not to involve himself at all.