Had he been in his right mind, John might have suggested she borrow a knife from one of the bikers and cut the bullets out; as it was, he just looked back at her suspiciously, not truly grasping what was going on, then decided she wasn't important. There was blood to be had and he could smell the biker kneeling beside him.

Wetting his lips with his tongue again, he turned away from her and tugged the biker's arm over to him. He flashed him a ravenous smile, the expression at least partially covered by his wrist, already at John's mouth, and then he bit down, happily ignoring Lydia in favor of feeling more and more alive again.