A deal with a devil, then. Johnny should have guessed as much. He's not sure what he's willing to give - rather, what he even has to give. But he can only step back, staring up at this tall, intimidating man who's so gently insinuated himself into first Johnny's dream, then his trust, and now - what? His story?

He reaches the wall and presses back against it, wishing he could sink through it. "I can - I have a little," he says, his voice breathy and uneven. "I can... do things. Like what the house does."

But he can't do it now, and what's more he doesn't want it.

"It doesn't protect me," he admits. "It keeps me here. Or keeps all this... here, in me." His fingers flex, the beginnings of a possible motion, but it never completes itself. His muscles ache with the hollow feeling of helplessness. He's so, so trapped.