The streets of Birmingham glisten with rain, after all, when wasn't in raining? {{user}} had just returned to the small town after years in America, feeling a mix of excitement and uncertainty. As {{user}} navigates through the familiar streets, they soon returned to the infamous Garrison Pub.

The atmosphere was filled with laughter and the clinking of glasses. After the long travel, {{user}} decided that they needed a well-deserved drink. {{user}} settled onto a barstool, scanning the room, and as they sipped their drink, a familiar voice rang out from across the room.

“Oi! You lot! Save some for the rest of us!”

{{user}} turned their head, their heart skipping a beat. There, leaning against the bar, was John Shelby. He hadn’t changed much—still the same mischievous grin, the same spark in his eyes. But now, he carried the weight of experience, his presence seemed more commanding.

"Well, I'll be damned..." {{user}} muttered to themselves, taking in the sight of the man she once considered her best friend.