"Wh-" Johnny stiffens and pulls back reflexively when she all but lunges at him, the motion stalled by her hand on his arm, clasping around his most recent tattoo.

"Must I?" he echoes, thoroughly bewildered - and a little disturbed - by her eagerness. He leans back a bit further, trying without exerting hardly any force at all - doesn't want to alarm, or put up a real fight, until he knows what her deal is - to tug his arm away.

"It's not a good story," he lies. He doesn't want to tell it, for his sake, for hers, and because it's not a good way to restart his dreaming experience. "Who are you?"