John growls like a beast, low and resonant beneath the rain. He curls further in on himself, then snaps outwards like fabric caught in the wind.

"Fucking— fine! To being seen as a fucking monster!" He splays his clawed hands, flares those broad black wings. Worse, the tendrils lick up around him like flame or like curling silk, dizzying to watch. "I have kept this hidden. This nightmare that I am. I—" His voice goes ragged and deep with frustration. "I've been trying so fucking hard to... to stay human."

The best he can pretend to be, in this world, is like Jack: someone who has always been corrupted, and now only fights against the draw to let it show.

"Now can we get out of this goddamn storm?"