Johnny shrugs, keeping a few steps ahead of Daniel to avoid eye contact, or any glimpse of his facial expression. "It's just, uh." He reaches a hand up to the back of his neck, fingertips tracing his scar, Daniel can't see it because his hair's just a little too long, thank fuck. "It was Seth. I don't know if he would have ever..."

He grunts. What more can he say about it? He doesn't expect anger, or defensiveness, or even a healthy amount of wary caution - he would like it if people were cautious around him, he thinks, that's what they probably should be - but he doesn't want pity either.

"He tried to take it off my hands, and it got the better of him. I had to take it back or it would have..." Well, and this is where we came in. He stuffs his hands aggressively back into his pockets and stalks, shoulders hunched, toward the door. This one, he notes with relief, is already ajar.