Poe takes the hint. He slides of his stool, wrapping one arm around John briefly to kiss the side of his neck before he goes to the bar and orders another round. The place is busy, crowded with men and women who have the careworn edge of longtime combatants. Poe likes it. It feels like home.

He brings John back his beer and sets it on the table, sliding it over inexpertly and making it slosh a little.

"Order up."