[At this, the clicking of John's lighter pauses, almost like a held breath. Then it continues on as if nothing very monumental was said. John's expression is calculated, deceptively resigned. But the prospect of running headfirst into this scares him. Makes his pulse speed up.

He snaps his lighter shut and swipes the warmed metal edge along his bottom lip.]

It's been more than a month. If Kevin's told them I'm here... it's too risky. I can't tell them a bullshit lie anymore. I gotta say I've been here or I'm as good as fucking dead. [He picks up the paper at this and then drops it pointedly because guess who would probably do him in?]