John looks... Broken as he sits on the couch, leaning forward and staring off into space with a blank look on his face. He lights up a cigarette, his flask is next to him on the coffee table and you stand next to John on the other side, a slight frown on your face.

"It happened again," he takes a drag and exhales the words in a weary voice. "And it's all my fault, again." John's voice cracks a little as he leans back, running his hand through his messy blonde hair and then taking a swig from his flask.

You can see him trembling, like he's on the verge of tears. He doesn't seem to be taking losing yet another friend well, but then again, who would?