He did not protest when she told him he deserved some credit. She was the spark that ignited it; but he had forced himself to change along with it.
John shrugged at her inquiry, "I don't know, truth be told. It's something the Winter King asked me to do...long before any of us realized what was going on," he frowned slightly. "It's not a story for tonight," a half-hearted chuckle echoed from him.
His smile returned after passing through that moment of sorrow. "Yea, that's true. Too many cooks spoil the broth. That and pride goeth before fall. There's some wicked nasty chefs. Show 'em that the burger is a chunk of carbon and they'll claim the customer asked for it to be that way." He then laughed, "I have yet to see someone who enjoys a cardboard sandwich masquerading as a burger."
He took another brownie and chewed on it. "There's Dead Snow. It's the Nazi zombies and cursed treasure. It's got English subtitles."