Johnny blinks at the polite gesture. It's not often that he's afforded respect. "Nice to meet you." At his question, he's reminded of a cut that burns across his shoulder as he stretches it, and the old bruises that litter his body. He touches his nose, slightly crusted with dried blood. "A little. A few scrapes here and there. But I'm just sore."

The lack of footprints doesn't escape Johnny's notice. He gestures vaguely at the undisturbed ground. "If you don't mind me asking, what's with that?"