Adam shifted closer as well, winding his fingers loosely through Jack's. "The last time I was in London was almost fifty years ago. Long before I met the first of the Twelve, before I formed the Company..." How much had he told him? Sometimes it seemed hard to remember, when it all came out of him in fragmented fits and starts, in between sleepless nights and nightmares when he slept.

"It seems I cycle around. I lived here for a while, after the Second World War, until I went to America. But these streets..." He glanced at the darkened windows of the pub, the way the lights cast a bit across the sidewalk, then faded quickly. "I grew up on these streets. They weren't like this. It wasn't a kind part of town at all. There's a bakery where the building was where we had a room..."

He glanced back at Jack, lips curving in a slight smile that was more sad than anything else. "I haven't thought of that time in a very very long time." With a shake of his head, he took a sip of his whiskey. "Was there really a ship--a space ship--hovering over London? Truly?" Sometimes it was so much easier to focus in on Jack and his stories than revisit his own.