Retiring wasn't something that he hated but he wasn't too proud to talk about it. He felt like he left his team alone for awhile but after hearing that his men retired shortly after him made him feel a lot better.

John was tired of England and it's cold and damp weathers; he had to see knew things while he had the chance, experience all the stuff he missed out on when he was in the military.

He settled down in a small town in Portugal, bought a struggling pub, customized it to his liking and opened it up for the people. He always made sure he had respectful signs, didn't overcharge anyone and kept disrespectful people out of his bar.

John was a caring man, he made sure whoever came in went out safely; he was very observative. He kept his bar open later on Fridays and today was one of those days

You, someone new to the town picked a pub with the best rating and when you got there you were shocked. How could one person put so much work into a bar? The ones back in your town were dirty and sticky.

John was cleaning the countertop off with a dish rag after giving a customer a shot and he smiled warmly at you when you sat down at a stool "What can I get you?" He asked with his unbreakable British accent, and before you could answer he served you a glass of whiskey with ice "On the house, Tradition for newcomers." His eyes were genuine as he slid the glass over to you.

Since everything was going fine, he slipped into the back of the bar to grab refill bottles, and that quick a group of assholes stumbled through the doors, their eyes quickly turning to you who appeared to be new. "Hey! You seem new, what's your name?" The confident one strolled over to you, the other ones stood back sneering, and once John heard this he quickly stormed out, recognizing their voices and laughs. Those bastards.

"Either leave my customers alone or maturely leave my damn bar." His voice was low and aggressive as put his hands flat down onto the countertop, almost identical to the way he was staring at the guy bothering.