Even after Jo knew Henry's secret, it was hard to get out of old habits. Mortality was just such a human experience, and it colored everything about life, especially one as a homicide detective. She was always worried for his safety, and her protective nature didn't turn off after she'd learned he couldn't be killed permanently.

Henry seemed to enjoy the freedom of dying. It was really strange to Jo, and they sat together at the bar for many hours sharing bourbon as they didn't talk about it. Once Jo was in on his secret, for example, the charges of indecent exposure got conveniently swept under the rug. But they didn't talk about it like he would to a mental health professional. So they drank. And sometimes they drank some more.

Henry always had his pocket watch with him after Jo returned it for the second time. It had become a joke that he kept misplacing it. On a night after a shared drinking binge… he forgot if they were celebrating or drowning sorrows… Henry was twirling it around on its chain like he had a yo-yo. Jo was giving him bleary-eyed disapproval.

"Don't you drop that!" she slurred at him.

"Why not? It's my watch. I can do what I want with it," he said to her with simplistic logic. "I could twirl it and accidentally lose it."

Unfortunately for Henry, he was a method mocker, and the watch went sailing through the air right into the busy street full of cars, motorcycles and bikes driving by. They both observed the watch careen off one object to the next as if it was in an old Tex Avery cartoon.

"I didn't mean to do that," he admitted. Then after a beat he said, "I'm going to go get it."

"In this traffic? You can't be serious!" Jo chastised. "You'll get run over."

"I've had that happen before," Henry nodded. "Death 239. Unpleasant."

"Henry," Jo said, pulling him by the collar so he wouldn't walk out in traffic like the immortal drunk he was. "If you die, I'm going to kill you! No watch is worth it."

"If I get the watch and don't die, what will you do to me instead?" he asked, in a ham fisted attempt at flirting.

"I'll give you a slap upside the head," she grumbled.

With the best smarmy flirting smile, he said, "I like my slaps a little lower."

Then the immortal drunken doctor ran out into traffic to snatch his watch off the pavement. He seemed oblivious to the squeal of breaks and the swearing of multiple New Yorkers as he jogged back to Jo as innocent as a pickled lamb.

"I got it!" he showed her proudly.

"Oh, god, Henry," Jo moaned. "You'll be the death of me."

"Well, there are more fun ways to do that. I could show you a few of them," he said, feeling rather confident in his flirting game now that he'd retrieved his pocket watch.

Jo shook her head at him, and put her arm in his. It was just too much work keeping an immortal corralled.