Johannes felt a twinge of pleasure as he felt his knife slice through Bast's throat. It was a good feeling, one that made him feel oddly powerful and [i]alive[/i] knowing that some twisted son of a bitch was dead at his hand. The feeling was like electricity in his veins. The blood that splattered across his arm and chest was like a temporary badge of honor.

He didn't have time to dwell on it - the fire was spreading and out of control, and he was sitting inside a tinderbox. A quick tug at the strap of his backpack ensured all his belongings were still on him, and that was good enough for him. Dashing for his table, he grabbed on to Ezra and shoved him once roughly toward Rali's open window. "Move!" Either the scribe would get the hint to follow, or he'd burn. This would make for a good first test.

Johannes dashed toward the window, grabbed on to the frame, and hoisted himself out. He tucked and rolled onto the hard ground, landing with a grunt, but he scrambled to his feet right away. Despite the growing flame, he waited at the window, figuring Ezra would need a hand climbing out. A quick glance around ensured the staff and the kids were out as well. 

Johannes bounced on his toes a bit as he waited for Ezra. Shit had hit the fan, and he wanted out of this outpost [i]now[/i]. He never stuck around to see if anyone would thank him for disposing of mutants or Miraculum members; he never knew who would be thankful and who would be angry. This was especially the case when property damage happened. No doubt the tavern-keeper would be livid that her livelihood was turning to ash.

At least maybe that bad vibe would go away.