[ John does well with withering; he's loved Mercy too long not to. He just shrugs, and never mind that it jars Asriel's grip on him a bit. They're already ridiculous, wedged in next to each other with Asriel glaring from too close up. ]

Hard to say what they want. Free entertainment, maybe. A stab at human poetry from something that doesn't really get humans, or poetry.

[ There's something wry in his voice again. He knew someone like that, once. If she'd ever developed a sense of humor, it would've scared everyone shitless. ]

Have the locals declared February relationship month because that's what the Doorway stands for, or decided it's what the Doorway stands for because they always pop up in February? Which came first, the Pthumerian or the egg?

[ He still doesn't drop his hand. ]