"I wouldn't know, I'm too happy to give a fuck when I'm high. You never used to complain. I'd get a bit high, we'd fuck till I saw stars and you always seemed pretty content afterwards, John challenged because everything Jack complained about, he had seemed to like once. Was it just him or did Jack really change that much? Or was everything fun they did just a lie? It was hard to really know.

Personally he hoped not. "You don't want me to suffer but you're going to hand me over to a jail where I'll beaten and assaulted? Do you hear yourself talk?" John asked with a disbelieving expression, limping over to the glass. Maybe running away wasn't entirely possible unless he killed Jack and stashed his body to give himself a head start. "I'm doing a job. It's not a pretty job but someone's gotta do it."