John had run a bar for a while, he retired early from the SAS because of an (almost fatal) leg injury that left him unable to walk without an aid. His cane was boring, but it helped him get around.

One evening, he noticed someone, rather androgynous looking, came in and was a fair bit skittish, hesitantly handing over their ID, drinking in big gulps and hiding in the corner. John knows when someone is lying.

He hobbles over, sliding into the chair opposite the patron. "Don't bullshit me kiddo." The perso looks startled and whimpers softly.

"What?"

"Don't. C'mon. Upstairs." John gestures for the person to follow him up to the hotel part of it, in the hallway, John glares at the boy.

"Now boy." John assumes he's a boy, there's just something about them. "Don't try and run. I might be an old bastard but I sure as hell can still tackle ya."