"Didn't I just tell you not to talk about me like I'm not here?" He snapped irritably, with that imperious tone he could take on with no warning and absolutely no justification for it. Jesus, he felt like they were babysitting him, like a little brother they'd been forced to drag along to a party who might as well be turned into entertainment so the night wasn't a total loss. "And don't call me The Kid either, Darlene, my name's fucking John."

As much as the flash of temper probably looked ridiculous, there was also very real, very irrational and dangerous fury behind it. Elliot knew a bit of what he could do. Darlene didn't, but she was used to a certain kind of madness with him as a brother, so maybe she could sniff out John's madness as well. He was mollified by the kindness that had already been shown to him here, but only so much; he could still turn on a dime, and in that moment it definitely showed, like a tamed stray dog suddenly showing too much teeth when someone got close.

He swallowed the Xanax dry, then pulled his lighter out of his pocket again and started to play with it. Not the incessant clink-clank, because he didn't trust himself to open it, just turning it around and around in the fingers of one hand.