Jonathan Sims

Martin's initial attempt to elaborate is not particularly enlightening, and John furrows his brow at the suggestion that it was Martin's idiocy that served as his primary inspiration. Not that Martin wasn't, admittedly, being a bit of an idiot... but that seems incidental when measured against the why of it all. He thought it was clear enough that it was the subtext that delighted him, not the surface-level ridiculous behavior.

But perhaps he shouldn't have assumed, given the frankly appalling suggestion that follows. "Wh— I-I-I—" John sputters, stiffening beneath Martin's hands as his cheeks darken with a mortified flush. "No! You—" he bites back the insistence that Martin wasn't being a prat, because he was, but also because it's so beside the point that he can't believe that's what Martin's taken away from it all and turned into a bloody subject of discussion. He drags up one arm so he can bury his face in the crook of his elbow. "Th-that wasn't— don't be absurd."