John stares out at nothing, towards the wall, like there might be an answer of how to explain.

"I don't like fuss about me."

That's not what it-

His voice lowers.

"I was given my name by mistake, in a tiny hospital room, trapped in the darkness, desperate to feel the warmth of the sun through a window on my arm so I could keep time, hoping that the only fucking person I'd ever cared about didn't stop breathing." A breath of his own out. "It's... a contrast that feels significant. And not in a... pleasant way."