[He lies down as Petre sits up, on his back with his hands behind his head, trying to dredge up a story that might satisfy Petre. The one that comes to mind surprises him, but hell, it might just shut him up about John's horrible loneliness. It's one of the few connections he made out there, brief as it was.]

I met this redhead, about my age. Siobhan. Still had a bit of the accent, Irish or Scottish or whatever. We always ended up in the same shelters when there was room, and I thought she was stalking me. Another mutant, the worst fucking empath you can possibly imagine - nearly all broadcasting. You know how annoying it is to feel shit like it's totally real when it's actually coming off someone else? Like a constant nervous breakdown.

But she was weird. Nothing got her down. Not a single goddamn thing got her down. People who couldn't get their mouths around her name just called her Sunshine. I probably don't need to tell you there wasn't exactly a shitload of that kinda affection going around a bunch of desperate starving people, but she got it. And I guess she figured she could turn me around if she just shone hard enough at me.

When that didn't work, she took over my cot one night. I tried to kick her out, she said we could share. We were both so goddamn skinny that we could, and these were smaller than hospital cots. We were fourteen, stunk like shit but all pushed together like that, and - you of all people can guess what happened. But the thing is, I didn't just feel what I was feeling. I felt what she was feeling, and what I was feeling rebounded back at me. You know how intense that was?

[He trails off there, staring up at the ceiling without much expression at all.]