It was an incredible stroke of luck for both men to be in the same city at the same time. John hesitated to call it fate. That was reserved for a person's final moments or finding an unopened pack of cigarettes on the street.

Though John lives in Atlanta these days after leaving England, he still travels quite frequently due to his work. He'll go where the money is, or if someone desperately needs help, but preferably the two can overlap. And the priest, or ex-priest, had said he was in the area before John had a chance to take another out of town case. Luck.

After recommending the bar John arrives first, not at all bothered about drinking on his own. At least this time he's not half-dressed and staring vacantly in the mirror. He orders a gin and tonic, no garnish thanks, and sits on one of the barstools. As he waits he withdraws a pack of cigarettes from his inner coat pocket and frowns. His fingers itch for a light, but it's too early to be thrown out of a non smoking establishment. Instead he fusses with the box, tossing it back and forth from hand to hand and sliding it along the wooden counter.