((omg. I suck. I totally forgot I hadn't replied! sigh.))
John looked over, not even bothering to hide his curiosity anymore, especially not now when the gears of inspiration were turning restlessly in his head. "Psionic energy? The fuck is that?" he asked, peering over to investigate when Jono lifted his shirt a little to reveal the wrappings. No sign of the energy settled where his chest used to be, but John felt the familiar tingling in his hands and the slight increase in his body temperature that told him a source was nearby -- and it wasn't his cigarette. It was too strong to be coming from there, too wild and powerful, and how he'd gone this long without ever making the connection was beyond him.
"It's not real fire, but it can start fires? Interesting," John mused, taking a last drag and then stubbing his cigarette out on the porch banister, then flicking the butt out into the yard. Eventually he might stop doing that. Maybe. For the moment, he was too distracted to worry about proper etiquette, and instead was far too intrigued by the possibilities Jono's mutation presented. Just to see if he could get any kind of response, John concentrated on searching out the tiniest spark of something resembling actual fire inside of Jono, willing it to the surface until he could feel it pressing against something, some kind of resistance he couldn't identify; he knew he could pull fire from places he couldn't see, ripping through walls and whatever else happened to be between him and the source, but he wasn't reckless enough to try that now. Jono might not appreciate it if John accidentally (or kind of on purpose) ripped another chunk of his body away by forcing more fiery energy out. It was subtle and he wasn't even sure if Jono could feel it, but he could feel the fire right there, churning angrily and looking for some kind of release, and it took a surprising amount of willpower not to give in.