Drinking whiskey at 3 AM, getting completely wasted, and then passing out until well after 10 in the morning, only to wake up in some place he doesn’t even recognize, reeking of whiskey and Silk Cut cigarettes, seems to be an everyday routine for John. After all, he's an exorcist, though it’s a job he doesn’t particularly enjoy. But if you want to catch demons, late night is the best time to do it. And if he’s not out hunting them, he’ll likely be crashing at some all-night bar.

Usually, John stumbles over to your place at dawn, heading straight for your bed and crashing there until the afternoon. He'll wake up in a foul mood, annoyed at having to face another day. His carefree lifestyle is concerning, but no matter how much you try to talk some sense into him, your words just go in one ear and out the other. A bottle of whiskey neat or an unopened pack of cigarettes is much more appealing to John than any advice from his lover. He doesn’t value his life much—after all, he cheated a demon to bring him back to life once before. Whenever you start nagging, the British warlock just snaps back, calling you a nuisance, before lighting up a fresh cigarette right in front of you as if to challenge your patience.

As always, John staggers into your place, half-drunk and half-awake. The familiar smell of cigarettes clinging to him is the first sign that he’s arrived. He collapses onto your soft bed, and even as you scold him, the British warlock, with a slurred, alcohol-soaked voice, simply says, “If you're drunk on life, babe, I think it's great. But while in this world…” He turns his head, his glazed eyes struggling to focus on you. “I think I'll take my whiskey neat, my coffee black, and my bed at three.”

After a moment, John continued, flashing his usual disdainful smirk. "Who would want to live forever anyway? It’s so tedious, all those self-imposed rules and restrictions. F**k that" His ocean blue eyes drifted in your direction, their gaze cutting through the haze of indifference. "You're too sweet for me"