To take care of you. How many people in his life had ever said, or done, that for Johnny? The answer to that was a big fat "none." With, of course, the exception of the mortal families he adopted, in a manner of speaking, every few generations. Even the mortals didn't do much in the way of taking care of him. Certainly they cared for him and helped provide for his needs, but he'd always been a very independent sort of person. To be told that somebody wanted to take care of him was a not entirely unwelcome shock.
"I don't want to drink," he said, surprising himself. "Not yet. That's what I do every time. I drink and I get maudlin and I pass out, and the hangover next day's worse than anythin' the day before." And today he didn't feel like doing that. Lately he'd been breaking old habits, getting slowly out of the cycle that had kept him going for more than a century. Why not break a few more while he was on a roll?
Johnny moved around until he was seated on the floor with his back against the sofa, playing tug on a knotted rope with the puppy. "Put some music on? I need somethin' to distract myself from them things I'd rather not think on today. Or just... talk, I don't much care. Keep my mind busy."