Jono wasn't even sure what he was trying to say. Most of the time, he was a depressing fucker, always seeming to have a knack for contaminating other people with his gloominess. He was, mostly, incapable of spewing sentences that weren't a moodier take on whatever subject was at hand than anyone else would come up with, just because he was a bloody negative person in life.
And yet, in this, he seemed to be uplifting for once. In itself, that was a bloody miracle. Maybe it was a blue moon. Maybe this just showed that Chantal was pretty damn weird if she managed to find comfort in anything that he was saying. Maybe he was just starting to grow as a human being.
The half-faced man rolled his eyes, but his heart wasn't in the gesture. There wasn't any real moodiness in it. "I'm glad one of us gets what I'm trying to say," he replied dryly. "Even I don't bloody know half of the time."
But it was about priorities, wasn't it? Not about finding what was best for you, but about avoiding what was worst. Maybe that was a fatalistic way of looking at life, but...hello. Jono here. What else were you expecting? And, as a rule, Morlocks had been through some of the shittiest circumstances that life had to offer. They weren't the most cheerful of bunches. You know, as bunches went.
Proved by how Chantal and Jono agreed on the simple fact that normalcy - and maybe even happiness - were something that people like them could never have. Jono sighed into the private space between his mind and hers, deprived of even the ability to make air move, just via his lungs. It was the little pleasures that he missed. Presumably the way that Chantal maybe missed not shedding on the couch, if she even did that
shut up, Jono.
"Well, none of us are normal and that's what you've got to focus on." His eyebrow quirked. "Well, maybe that and not letting people wind you up so much. Just...I don't know. Try not to mind what they say so much. Try not to care that much."
Because that was always Jono's advice. Not caring so much.