[ The secret to a scary story is to blend your own experiences with it -- and not to overdo that shit. Clearly, Johnny's in his element, and there's everything pleasing about drawing Jack's attention, keeping him intrigued. He feels a strange sense of pride about knowing that Jack wants to hear more instead of dismissing it, but he carefully stores it away to continue. ]

She just stared at me. Didn't blink, just stared in with those black eyes. There was blood all the way down her shirt. Ever had a creepy mannequin just stare full on at you? That's what it feels like.

[ Johnny grimaces. ] I couldn't move, couldn't do anything but look back. She spat out whatever it was that was in her mouth; it was just a mess of feathers that stopped moving by then.

Then she turned her whole body around, too, and pressed her white, ghost-mask face all up against the glass. She didn't look like anything I've ever seen, just this terrifying expressionless, smooth mannequin face.

Then she smiled, and her mouth is this weird, gaping black hole. No teeth, no tongue. You know how your eyes would crinkle when you usually do? Her eyes didn't even change shape when she smiled. It was just black, and staring.

Jack, it was seriously fucked up.