[ When the closed-off look settles over Martin's face again, Jon's stomach again does something— complicated. A frantic sort of distress and a rush of recognition, both at once. What— what did he do to make Martin look like that again? (What had he done to make him stop? Can he repeat it?)

Jon just sort of... stares, and finally nods. ]

I, um— [ ohh boy here goes, he's going to talk about emotions, he can do this ] —well, I'm not glad you've been kidnapped. Martin. But I'm, ah... glad we're... [ together? away from Peter? no, that'll sound like a criticism of Martin's mysterious plan. and he's made it clear he has no desire for an ally. Jon lets it trail into a sigh, starts again. ] —I'm sorry. Yes. Let's look around.

[ He follows Martin to the door, eyes a table lamp as a possible weapon, decides against it. Seems rather pointless. ]

We should stay together. [ That's only logical. But he sounds hopeful as he says it, like he thinks Martin may not grant him that. ]