His breathing is still labored, which is the only thing that keeps him from bursting into incredulous, manic laughter.

"What," he says thinly. "No. Nooo. You're..."

Well. Why not. Greta comes from fairytales and she's a perfectly normal person. This guy, this scary fucker with a less scary fucker's face, there's no reason he couldn't be some old monster. Ridiculous name and vague memories of an ugly-faced imp aside, Rumpelstiltskin was a monster, wasn't he? Taking people's firstborns and shit. He can't really remember. Johnny doesn't have a firstborn and the way things are going he doubts that will ever change.

His posture relaxes, though not by much. The lizard is still holding his soul down, if less aggressively than before.

"Okay," he says, like he's getting used to the idea. "Uh. Okay."

He's unmoored. Where was this going?

"And you want my..." He doesn't let himself finish that. He doesn't want to say it. That would feel too much like an offer.