Despite himself, the Balladeer does stop to listen, and after a moment turns to face Johnny again. He's only put a few more feet of distance between them, not at all a safe amount, but he's still not quite used to just walking away from things like this. The discomfort is obvious in both of them; the Balladeer's shoulders are tight, and the bird hunkers down and glares at Johnny and the rabbit as she whispers into her human's ear. He's not sure why exactly he wants her advice, but he angles his head anyway to listen.

The part about the dreams is niggling at him. How did he know about that?

"...I heard it," he says finally, warily. He can believe that Johnny perhaps didn't mean for any of this to happen, but that doesn't change the end result. "I can hear it now. I hear people's lives, that's what I do." It would be a complete lie by this point to claim that he hadn't intentionally dug into Johnny's song; he'd done that nearly from the beginning. But it isn't something he can just stop doing.