He raises his index finger to pursed lips, modeling a classic secretive shushing gesture to keep that secret just between Eden and himself, and maybe the old guy in the other bed who probably can't hear them while he takes his old guy nap or whatever.

"Can't blame you for doin' what you're good at," Freddy shakes his head. In other situations that statement wouldn't apply at all on principle, but even then he can understand a little bit as to why people pursue the paths they do. At least, he wants to believe there's undeniable reason for it, whether it's upbringing or shit circumstances or who knows what. "Thoughts on," he pantomimes smoking a cigarette, "in here?"

Fucking no, but it's worth asking, right?