Nick nearly rubs his fingers on his jacket when Mr. Clown snatches at the writing utensils; he does flinch back, however slightly.

He shakes his head at the picture, visibly disturbed by the glee this man takes in it. (Explosions are a sore spot, like the bloody hollow of a knocked out tooth.)

People got sick and died. Almost everyone. He doesn't write down what happened to him, and he decides he's not going to. He could do without a cartoon drawn about it.