The Balladeer listens in thoughtful silence, sipping his tea. It's pleasantly warm, leaving heat in his throat and chest, but it does little to sap away the lingering unease from the past few nights. If nothing else, Greta's right about that much; he needs to take breaks in between working on it.

If he's going to at all.

"People aren't always ashamed." In his experience, those who do the worst things are the least ashamed of them. But Bee also suggested that: that Johnny's song was less him and more something that had happened to him. It's never worked that way before. Bad things happen to everybody, but it doesn't have to warp their entire lives. People always have a choice. Put it like an illness, though...that changes his perspective a little. Can that happen? Could something have gotten at the song itself to do that?

He doesn't know. The Balladeer carefully sets his cup down and passes a hand over his eyes again; this caffeine isn't working fast enough for his liking.

"It's what I do," he says finally, somewhat plaintively. "And I can actually get out ahead of these things now. If he really is dangerous, I don't know." It sure seems that way to him, but he's been losing steam on that argument. Whatever the sound is, it has been wearing him down. "Who else is gonna do it?"