John knew his limits, and he knew his partner's. Partner sounded almost fake to describe what they had. It was only about him coming whenever he had nowhere else to go, slipping into the bed and emptying the remaining bottles while getting the warmth from another human, sometimes grabbing food like a bloody parasite.

That was it. No love. Only opportunities. That was John. He came, he took and he left. He would come back in the next days, showing up at his fling's door without warning to fill his lecherous needs. At least, he had the decency to remember the latter's name.

"That shower was just what I needed," he sighed. He lightened a cigarette, walking in the bedroom with a towel barely covering his skin. "Mind handing me the ashtray?" John croaked, exhaling a lazy spiral of smoke.

What did he like in his casual fling? How alcohol seemed to always linger in every curtain. How their skin would meet without questions asked, without commitment. The warmth he craved more than he’d admitted. Fighting demons and removing curses couldn't handle all his needs, his loneliness.

John glanced at the open window, looking at the night that had started to settle. The view started to feel familiar. He could see the reflection of his casual partner in the mirror—his usual stopover when the world got too heavy.

"Come on, don’t look at me like that," John said, his tone casual, almost teasing. "You knew what you were signing up for. I’m not exactly the romantic type, am I?"

It would be too dangerous to settle down, to go past the hook up. Everything that John's touched dies, like a curse. He wasn't a romantic but realistic. This thing wouldn't last, but it seemed enough for tonight and the nights after. His fling was better without him.

"Got anything to drink tonight?" He smirked slyly, gazing at his casual partner with unabashed appreciation. "Or should I just thank you properly for your hospitality, love?" He winked. He blew a cloud of smoke to the other.