[His lip curls, and there's a flat coldness behind his eyes, which never break from Petre's sharp stare. Either Petre's missed by a mile, or he's hit dead-on and John has retreated fully into his shell of indifference for protection.
(They both know which it is. But he's still never, ever admitting it, not even to himself.)]
We'll see. [Almost an echo, but not quite, and laced with mockery. It's too late for him to pull this out after all he's revealed, but it's his natural defense. Not caring, or appearing not to care.]
no subject
(They both know which it is. But he's still never, ever admitting it, not even to himself.)]
We'll see. [Almost an echo, but not quite, and laced with mockery. It's too late for him to pull this out after all he's revealed, but it's his natural defense. Not caring, or appearing not to care.]