Some people might take offense but John can see the question for what it is. It's exactly the earnest sort of thing someone young enough and still enough of a good kid to be startled at being caught trying doors would ask.

Christ. He was never that young or that good.

He shrugs, good-natured. "Old habits die hard, I suppose. Don't you ever start; it won't make you look grown up and it's filthy."

And that's where he'd leave it with most anyone else, but... she's just a kid and he doesn't yet know if this ship means anyone any harm. It's a sore spot with him. Messing with kids.

"The good news is, you can go back. You will. There's no rhyme or reason to when or how you go back or come back here." He finishes his cigarette, stubs it out atop a trash can before flicking the butt in. "Everyone gets a room. This one, it's mine. Let's see if we can figure out which one's yours. I'm John." And he offers his hand, clearly for a handshake, nothing nefarious.