John's time with Elliot had actually gone a long way to calming the jittery nerves he'd cultivated living on the street, even with such a nervous man to call his roommate. He no longer had to worry about police, strung-out junkies who thought he might have a dollar or two on him, plain old mutant haters who could catch him playing with fire (literally) or using it to keep himself alive during the colder months and decide to take out their ignorance on a goddamn kid - there was now a door between him and all of that shit, and it eased his mind more than he could've imagined. Combine that with somewhere soft and warm to sleep, a roof over his head, and usually at least two meals a day, and he was feeling good.

Then some asshole started jimmying the door open and he nearly jumped out of his skin.

Correction: some bitch. He'd been sitting with Flipper on his lap when the noise started and now had her clutched protectively to his chest, his own eyes fairly massive and wild at the intrusion, but never a match for Elliot's. At her flat question, he set Flipper down on the couch, then gestured at the stranger in disbelief.

"You - just broke into the fucking apartment," he sputtered, arms out at his sides. "Who are you?"