Gray irises keep staring at her, his smile ever so present on his lips as if paralyzed there. The smoke keeps pouring out from the small gap between them, an impossibly long exhale, coming to a halt only when he replies to her. An absent-minded « Yeah... Kind of, I guess... » that feels detached from the discourse almost more than him, before the cigarette finds its place between the lips once again. He leaves it hanging there as he laughs. A fancy way to say he's getting killed, huh? « I suppose, love. ». He supposes, yes.
She keeps talking - her voice is so distant. Yet, it also sounds as if three, four, five people are talking at the same time as her, one screaming at the top of her lungs, one barely murmuring, one crying, one mad. He grimaces shortly, the loudest one piercing through his ears, distracting him momentarily and finding her suddenly sitting on him.
He notices her inhaling his smoke. The grimace disappears, in favour of another smile.
« Don't know. Most people arrive here and don't want to admit the truth. Should know somethin'... I tend to lie too after a while that I'm here. ». He puffs out some more smoke. It curls gently around her, now, letting itself be enjoyed by her too. « ... I have no clue why I do that... » he can't but add under his breath.
He lets out a barely convinced « Mhh... » at her words, but doesn't comment further - who is he to judge her for such a reasoning? He's madder than her, after all -, limiting himself to a small nod before the discourse returns on him being tortured. He sighs.
« Mh-mh. » he confirms, the cigarette still hanging by the side of his mouth. The smoke suddenly twirls much more uncomfortably from it, as if it is externalizing a stress he's too numb to be feeling. « The Devils are. I... think I lost track of time. I thought I still had... ehh, o-one day, at least. And instead I... mh. »
He stares at her for a moment, as if a thought suddenly crossed his mind.
« ... there's a knife beside my hand. ». His voice becomes flat, without a colour in it. The smoke keeps twirling around them, showing a nervousness John's form is lacking. « Barely out of reach. I think they want me to struggle my hand free and kill myself. I don't... think they realized I gave up. When they'll do, they'll...- »
He stops again, his voice suddenly gone. For a long, long moment, he can only stare blankly at her, in utter silence. It's only after a handful of seconds that he returns making sounds - a small, broken laughter, as his form begins to tremble and he unknowingly starts rocking back and forth.
« Oh, th-they w-won't be happy, haha. Th-they woooon't be happy-! » he chuckles, and then laughs louder, and then he takes the cigarette between the fingers and, all of a sudden, puts it inside of his mouth and swallows it. His laugh gets broken by coughs, but can't fully stop him.
« Oh they won't be happy. » he keeps repeating, a mutter under his breath. « They won't be happy they won't be happy they won't they won't they won't be happy haha they won't be happy-- »
