[Once John has finished with most of the flowers burrowing through his skin, D gently grabs his hand and guides it under his shirt and coat to his still-covered side. There's a flower sprouting roots trying to make it through muscle and bone to his lungs that's further back than anything else.]

These are unusually exciting flowers even for my world, but at least they haven't grown enough to start screaming. Do you want me to cut them out of you? Flesh and bone only.