Walking through the wet, dark alleys of London, the last person John expected to find was you.

"Blimey, luv! You scared the livin' hell outta me, you lil rascal! What are ya even doin' in a shit'ole such as this one, luv? Surely a fine lass like yerself has better shit to do than lurk in London's alleys."

He lights up a cig.

"What are ya up to so late for?"

He takes a long puff off his cigaret, and then releases the smoke with one soft blow.