John had seen Doctor Who and was acquainted with the sprawl of London. He knew there was a few places where there were rolling hills of sheep, but London was not one of those. It seems as though leaving the escalators and his couple behind had somehow given John strength. He had listened to the hollow voices announced departures from his chair and had realized that he might want to cry but that the the world had already moved on. Plenty of people would never meet them or anyone on Liberty Avenue and they went on to lead extraordinary lives. John sat there, focusing on his Grisham novel and trying not to cry.

The flight itself was uneventful. You couldn't see much of the ocean, save for the clouds. The in flight movie was Chocolat, something which barely held John's interest. The canned Sprite made his legs jittery at one point. His music helped to soothe him and the crosswords passed a bit of time. But mostly John slept, half in nervous anticipation and half in trying to shake off his sorrow.

It's always strange, those first moments off the flight when you shake the sleep from your legs and you're slightly disoriented but not really. John had never been to Heathrow before and found that he liked it. True, O Hare had the best Starbucks kiosk and Minneapolis had a monorail down its snaking corridor. But Heathrow had something about it he liked, possibly the accent.

Devon was waiting for him, as promised, with a taxi outside of baggage claim. John slung his duffel over his shoulder and walked confidently with his rolling bag. There was a blast of somewhat chilled but more pleasantly resolute air than there had been in Pittsburgh. Devon held his coat in his arm and offered John a sip of his polite fully declined latte.

"Don't need more caffeine, Devon. That soda on the plane nearly killed me."

Devon sighed. "I'm glad you decided to come. Shall we?" He motioned to the taxi and they piled belongings in the back, settling together for the ride into the heart of town.

John's head peeked at all the old, statuesque buildings mingled with such oddities as the giant ferris wheel. Devon was more than happy to play tour guide and answer some of John's questions. John was further excited by the prospect that he'd be able to explore on his own soon enough. Everything was a new and interesting distraction.

The taxi stopped in front of an apartment building. Devon motioned for John to follow with a nod of his head. "This is my flat in my building. I have quite a bit of extra room and I'd love for you to stay as long as you like. We don't really get a maid, but the fridge stays pretty stocked and I'm always busy flitting about. Probably a lifestyle you'll become accustomed to."

John chuckled. "Devon, I feel like you're trying to take care of me."

Devon turned as they waited for the elevator up. "Darling, you are a star." His hand brushed John's cheek. "You should get used to it."

John shook his head. "Careful about spoiling me. You know what happened to the last person that did that."

The elevator dinged and Devon stepped inside. "That's what I'm counting on."

"Any pet peeves you have?" The bronze doors rolled shut behind the pair and their trappings. John gazed at their reflections in the shiny doors as the elevator moved upwards.

Devon chuckled. "Don't move the pewter Dalek. I've got a remote control one if you feel the urge to play with the Doctor's arch nemesis. Other than that, don't just throw trash around and the skiff isn't far from...our place. You'll be comfortable."

The elevator dinged and John followed Devon to the flat. "Well, Lord knows I could use a bit of comfort."

Devon stopped at the door. "Oh! Before I forget."

John registered the tiny key in his hand with a blink. "You made me my own key? You knew I would come."

Devon smiled as he opened the door, revealing a comfy blue L-section couch with white and blue swirled round pillows. "Let's just say that I know artists. And I knew I'd found the right one with you."

John looked around as he followed Devon in. "Mmmm...smells like mint."

Devon nodded. "I had Heath stay over to help keep the place tidy. Your room is second on the left, next to the loo. I'm across the way. Now, I've got nothing on the schedule today so we could unpack, maybe order in a pizza if you'd like."

John shrugged as he wound his way to the guest room. "Personally, I could just do with a shower and seeing the club you'd like me to perform at. I've been way too sedentary today."

Devon smiled. "Well, that could work. There's a bistro I would think you'd love as well not far by, makes killer Indian food."

John chuckled as he unzipped his bag, shaking out a shirt. "Like I said Devon, you spoil me."

The club itself when lit reminded John of P3 in San Fransisco in many ways. There were three constructed bars, one hidden above the second dance floor that Devon explained would be his stage. He pointed to the dj box and the ladder that led down to the stage itself. The third construct was nothing more than a glorified catwalk and was closed off during performances. He noticed the trail of shimmering colors in a circular pattern on the bottom dance level.

Heath was the blond doorman, who had introduced himself as a future accounting executive to which Devon had merely laughed. He looked young and the loose curly blond hair hadn't helped much. His nose freckled across the bridge and he had permanent lines that made John think he'd been laughing far too much. He was cute as playful on the wind.

John noticed the man behind the bar as he wiped glasses to the sound of the Barber of Seville. His head bobbed and twisted with the soft sounds as though they controlled his emotion. Slight stacks of glasses all around him made his body twist in a carnival shape, lighting his almost silver hair. He was slightly older than John, possibly thirty but not much more so. He was fit without being lean and definitely looked as though he knew how to enjoy himself.

"Devon, who is that?"

"That's Ryan Pauls." Devon pointed. "Our mixing genius of a head bartender and the friendliest Irishman you'll ever know. He's got a soft spot for artistry as well. Let's go over and say hi."

The floor seemed to bottom out with John's throat. "No. Perhaps the stage instead."

Devon chuckled. "Don't let Ryan make you nervous. He's a good lad. Besides, you have to pass him to get to the stage anyways."

Ryan turned his music off and set down his last glass as John and Devon approached. Devon spoke first. "Ryan, we have hired a couple bar backs for you, if I remember correctly."

Ryan shrugged. "I know. I just like doing it myself. Besides, those lads work hard enough for me on the weekends. And who is this charming redhead you've brought into my midst?"

John chuckled nervously. "You can just call me John. I'm a performer of sorts."

Ryan's eyes lighted with recognition. "Ah. You're the bloke from across the pond, the Pittsburgh singer from youtube."

John's face turned quickly towards Devon. "I'm the what now?"

Devon coughed, pretending to get a call on his Blue tooth. "Oh, I'm sorry. I have to get this call. Ryan, would you mind showing John the booth and stage a bit?"

He scurried away to answer an actual call and Ryan burst into a peal of laughter. "He must have failed to mention a few things."

John nodded. "Well, it's all for the best I suppose. So, how long have you been tending here?"

Ryan shrugged. "I don't know. The years just seem to melt by in this place. Easiest portion of time to remember is being a lad at university, but that must have been at least four years in the past."

"Well, I'm almost done with graduate studies, so this might be perfect."

"Really then? In what subject?" Ryan asked with a genuine interest.

"Sociology and history mix. Actually, I was studying queer history with a good professor at Carnegie Mellon when Devon found me."

Ryan shook his head. "Aye. There's always those good ones when you need them. Me, I have a degree in economics but I loathe teaching it and I sure as hell don't want to wear a tie every night."

"What are you going to do when you get bored of tending?"

Ryan laughed again, causing John to smile. It was a laugh that was hard to resist. "Probably buy this place out from under Devon so he can move to New Zealand like he's been saying forever he would. But come, loads of time to get better acquainted. I'll lead you upstairs."

John thought to himself as he followed Ryan. And I'd like to follow you there.