The Balladeer winces, wagging his hand from side-to-side. Johnny certainly did shout, but that wasn't at all what he'd been trying to talk about. That didn't bother him.
Let's retrace this. He lifts his head, peering through the trees again for passerby even though he knows full well he'd have heard their footsteps in the leaves. This just sits wrong with him. "Do you remember what happened with Guiteau?" he asks in a low tone, clearly unhappy to be speaking of it in the waking world. It isn't that he's ashamed; he refuses to feel that, he's got nothing to hide. But now he's dragging his work after him, where he hadn't wanted it to come. Sure, he's supposed to keep those stories alive, but...
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The Balladeer winces, wagging his hand from side-to-side. Johnny certainly did shout, but that wasn't at all what he'd been trying to talk about. That didn't bother him.
Let's retrace this. He lifts his head, peering through the trees again for passerby even though he knows full well he'd have heard their footsteps in the leaves. This just sits wrong with him. "Do you remember what happened with Guiteau?" he asks in a low tone, clearly unhappy to be speaking of it in the waking world. It isn't that he's ashamed; he refuses to feel that, he's got nothing to hide. But now he's dragging his work after him, where he hadn't wanted it to come. Sure, he's supposed to keep those stories alive, but...
...okay, maybe he's holding a bit of a grudge.