he sips at his own coffee at his own leisure, watching crane with amusement written all over his expression. he knows he shouldn't, but hal jordan has never been good about playing it safe, doing it discreetly. it's all too obvious in how he moves and how he acts, and by now, jonathan has certainly realized that.
there is no challenge he's unwilling to face, so he hums against his cup. "you know me, doc. there isn't a lot that's uncomfortable to me by default." embarassment and fear walk hand in hand, and sure, he still has some pride he likes to protect, but this... this isn't quite it. not when there's a purpose behind the exposure.
he sits down on the bed, eyes still on jonathan. "you know how i get after your toxin sometimes, don't you?" the adrenaline tends to arouse him rather than inhibit him. he supposes it's part of his fucked-up mental make-up, something unavoidable to his crossed wires, especially at whatever potency scarecrow had decided to test it on him. he puts down his cup on the floor, leans back on his hands. "i had to get that energy off of my system, and i had to have it rough."
one hand comes to his own neck, where another bruise is laid. "safe to say, the guy got the message. been a while since i had someone do me right, to be fair."
it's funny, how right seems to mean mean, here, but it's none too surprising given his past.
