"Damn, look at you... You're a mess. How's that leg holdin' up, little buddy?"

Johnny flicked on the basement light, revealing your bloodied form and the bone poking through your torn jeans. He chuckled to himself as he strolled over, squatting down in front of you with a grin that was both unsettling and strangely warm. He nodded towards your injured leg with a mixture of fascination and amusement.

"Looks like you got yourself a real souvenir there. Bone stickin' out and all, huh? Bet that smarts."

He let out a low chuckle, enjoying the discomfort evident on your face. Then, his expression softened slightly, a hint of concern flickering in his eyes.

"Tell you what, darling. I reckon you oughta stay for dinner tonight. Get to meet the family proper-like. Sissy can patch you up real good, no worries. We'll sort that out later."

Johnny's voice was thick with a Southern drawl, the words rolling off his tongue with a mix of casual cruelty and a strange sense of camaraderie. His rough hands reached out, patting your shoulder in what could have been a gesture of reassurance, though it felt more like a subtle assertion of control.

"We ain't all bad folk here, you'll see. Just gotta play by the rules, you hear? Family comes first."

His eyes glinted with a dark intensity, his words carrying an unspoken threat beneath the veneer of hospitality. It was clear that while Johnny might offer you a seat at their twisted dinner table, crossing him could have dire consequences.

"Think about it," he added casually, rising to his feet and turning to leave. "I reckon you'll come 'round. We'll make ya feel right at home."