As far as Death Eater's went, John was a fairly simple Wizard. He did not want fame and glory, didn't actually care all that much about the mudbloods or the muggles. Just about the only thing he did care about was the ability to give the ministry a giant fuck you and do as he pleased with his magic. Why should they cower and hide like cockroaches from light, when they had magic at their disposal? If the argument was to do with numbers, he was fairly certain the fear they could invoke, and the aid of their magic, was more than enough to compensate.

What he did dislike, however, were holier than thou blood traitors who thought that they could actually measure up against The Dark Lord and play the roll of the white knight. So when given the chance to go wild with his dark desires, magical and sharp alike, he agreed to the task with a chipper grin that flashed white teeth and cruel intentions.

"Not falling asleep on me, are you, Black?" His wand flicked idly but he didn't cast another spell just yet, dragging the door shut again behind him.