That's bullshit, man. That's fucking bullshit. [John says this in the only way he can: with blunt irritation.] You have options. Just because you live here, it doesn't mean you have to fit into their fucking mold, you got that? You can do whatever the fuck you want to with your life now. You don't have to go along with their shit.
[The words are spoken bitterly; there's such conviction in them it's hard not to listen to them. Because John's talking about something he cares about, like he cares about it. He feels the purpose rising in his chest, making his knuckles whiten over his lighter. He believes this: and maybe not for myself, not anymore. But he believes this for Kevin. He really fucking does, and the realization staggers him so much he gets up, feeling the sudden urge to leave, to escape this truth, the hopelessness he feels. There are no options for him anymore. He's a wanted terrorist. He's a fucking cold-hearted killer. There's nothing in this goddamn world that's his, and nothing he's believed in for months besides this stupid kid.]
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[The words are spoken bitterly; there's such conviction in them it's hard not to listen to them. Because John's talking about something he cares about, like he cares about it. He feels the purpose rising in his chest, making his knuckles whiten over his lighter. He believes this: and maybe not for myself, not anymore. But he believes this for Kevin. He really fucking does, and the realization staggers him so much he gets up, feeling the sudden urge to leave, to escape this truth, the hopelessness he feels. There are no options for him anymore. He's a wanted terrorist. He's a fucking cold-hearted killer. There's nothing in this goddamn world that's his, and nothing he's believed in for months besides this stupid kid.]