Contrary to popular belief, Johnny is just as angry as he is nervous.

He isn't sure why everyone thinks he isn't vengeful and mad; he's the one with an almost two inch long scar across his cheek because some cocky bastard jumped him, and jumped him unfairly, at that, is he not? Sure, he carries around that six-inch switchblade for protection, but deep down, he's hoping that ringed girly boy tries him again so he can really use it.

But, despite all his rage, he's still just a rat in a cage. Johnny feels like he does circles around everything, like a zoo animal. This is all he can do, all he will ever do. When will this cycle be over, huh? Socs coming on the east side, parents acting terrible towards their kids, certain people being discarded for no good reason. He's sick of it, he's mad.

“And what do I get for my pain, huh?” He asks you miserably. You're both in the field, talking, angry. You were just jumped, and he was just beat by his father.

“Dammit, when does it stop?” He needs to stop asking questions, you think to yourself. You don't have an answer, either. You never knew he was so pissed.