John didn't even flinch at the sudden anger in Bobby, or his violent reaction. He'd seen and done worse himself. No, even as limp greens sort of...oozed down the wall, all John did was note that he'd have to clean that up later.

Later being the operative word. Now he had to pound up the stairs behind his - behind Bobby, to keep a safe distance and try not to make things even worse. Part of him didn't give a damn if he did, because he was just so tired with it all. And beneath that, there was a stupid, useless nugget of hope that was far more human than John was strictly comfortable with.

"You've just got a sickness," John said, calmly, from down the corridor, able to look in and see Bobby packing. "You can google the eating habits, the fitness...lots of people have it. I know you wanted to be better. I know I probably made too many cracks about your ass, and you listened to me. But I loved you, just the way you were. Ice-cream and weight and all."