Shaking his head, John poked at the boxes. "The rhyme makes it sound like we can't all confess something, like it's just supposed to be two of us," he said, clearly unhappy with it. His gaze settled on Iris, his expression dour and seeming to say I'm the other one and I hate this, too. Scowling, he looked at the lid of the box. "Though I guess we could just try? See what happens when everyone talks?"
He didn't want to talk. Not at all. His brain was going millions of miles a minute, trying to figure out what he could say that wouldn't completely ruin his life. He couldn't leave himself open by telling them who he really was, and he couldn't leave them open. If this was someone's idea of a joke, it was sick. He didn't know about Iris, or Cole, or Peter, but he was fairly certain their secrets wouldn't get anyone killed.