John seems to pull himself together before his very eyes, and Martin feels his own shoulders relax by degrees. He still doesn't understand what's happening, what happened, but John isn't going to leave him in the dark about it, at least, isn't just going to brush him off. He feels a pang of shame for even fearing he would.

The explanation doesn't quite come, though; instead, John puts questions to him, and they pull Martin up short, not because they don't make sense, but because they do. He frowns slowly and draws himself up a little straighter, suddenly guarded. It was odd, odder still now that John highlights it, oddest of all that he knows to do that. His hesitation ought to be all the answer John requires.

"What are you saying?" he says, wary and unwilling to make any guesses himself.