Zagreus shakes his head--he can feel the pathetic near-apathy coming off Johnny in waves. Dimly he connects that it probably means something, something other than himself, has happened to Johnny, maybe ongoingly, maybe just in this dream, maybe both! If he cared he could pursue it, maybe he will, maybe he'll just be proud of having had the thought. Poor little placeholder, zero, fool. Defiance is always preferable, even--especially--the hopeless kind. Johnny can't seem to get that right.

"Not I, said the cat." His thoughts are disjointed, he's noticing. Perhaps he ought to spend more time...well, somewhere, elsewhere. Not the cobwebby corners of the Dreaming, anyway. Increase the dosage of linearity. Vague thoughts about pressure-cookers surface and submerge uneasily. "Maybe if it were up to you. And then what would you be? Pheasant under glass? Classy." Unease forgotten or deliberately ignored, he laughs at what isn't really much of a joke.