He doesn't know what to expect from Martin regarding any of this. He might have very clear ideas about what Martin owes him, but Martin has already demonstrated a startling generosity on that front. Still, John can't help looking faintly incredulous when Martin — even this Martin — insists that it's all right, that he's okay, that the myriad questions he must be harboring are less critical than getting back inside. He's grown to expect leniency and understanding from his Martin, because his Martin loves him. But this one...? John swallows thickly, then nods, not trusting himself to speak.

They walk in silence for a minute or two, giving John enough time to recover himself a little, and to take a few mental soundings of just how miserably awkward he'll feel if he remains silent as they continue. It's not a terribly long walk back to their flat, but it's long enough that he doesn't think he can bear to spend it all sulking. So he clears his throat, and begins, a bit haltingly, to explain the Entities. He steals brief glances at Martin as he speaks, half-expecting some degree of disbelief. Darrow's strangeness is both demonstrable and comparatively benign; the truth about their London feels far more fantastic, for all that the proof of it is written all over his skin.

"That's what Jane Prentiss was... involved with," he says. "The Corruption, specifically. And that's what we were collecting at the Institute, aside from the nonsense: Statements that related to the Entities— well, the other Entities. We weren't exactly independent observers, as it turned out."