[ human dumptrucks incapable of good relationships, party of two. ]

That's about the size of it, bruv.

[ John does his signature move of patting through the pockets on his coats in search of his cigarettes. He eventually finds a crushed box , pulling out two along with his lighter. He sticks both in his teeth with more panache than the gesture really needs. ]

Still pretty damned sure this universe might be a new circle of hell in disguise, though. S'too nice. Nobody innerestin' to talk to. 'Til now, 'least.