[John invariably contains multitudes, and at the moment, most of those multitudes are directed at insulting children.]

What're you, seven? I couldn't pronounce homophobia at seven, which was all well and good, since it wasn't a word, then. Just called it being a cunt.

[He smokes his cigarette, fails to make eye contact with the child, and scans the area. Most of his attention is focused on his own rambling commentary, unheeded by whether or not anyone is listening.] Never saw the point of this ally business, anyroad; all it does is bicker and bicker and get folk into the wrong discos. If you ain't storming parliament, I haven't the time for dialog. Which brings me to use, lad, I'm plenty useful, just not to you.