Troubling doesn't cover the half of it. Either he's gone completely mad or... or what? Inter-dimensional, transmogrifying travel is possible. He can hear a voice very like Sherlock's scoffing at the idea in his head. Then again, once you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth. They aren't talking about demon hounds here, no parlor tricks and gas and lights.

John can feel his ears as he swivels them, his hooves as they dig into the earth, and the swish of his tail as he flicks it.

This is fine. Completely fine. Perfectly fine.

"No, no. I think I should walk." Because getting carted about by a dragon, while undeniably cool, might just break the last semblance of calm holding him together. He gets up and takes a few tentative steps. "How long have you been here?"