“Tick-tock Johnston, what’s it going to be?” Stuart asks with a sneer.

“I’m not a-af-afraid of you, o-or your woo-oo-dden toy!”

Stuart grins broadly, “If you’re not afraid, why do you leak water from your fleshy pours?” he says as he drags a finger across Johnston’s brow, and wipes the sweat from his forehead, then plunges them into his mouth. “You can tell many things from the sweet salty sweat of a fear filled sinner. Do you want to know what your soul juice is telling me?” he asks as Johnston struggles awkwardly to swallow a dry mouthful of air.