It was hard not to recognise the shape and build of a man you had risked your life with in your youth, even if it was in part hidden by a long coat and a bad cap. Harry would have recognised young Jack Church even in the pitch black. He would recognise him even in the deepest pits of hell because that was where they both belonged.
"Dear old Churchy." Harry smiled, Hawker at his feet and Davey, he knew, not far behind. "Churchy, Churchy Churchy, you trying to hide from me?" He asked, as if avoiding or hiding from Harry Fisher was a shameful and hurtful thing to do. "How are you keeping, Jack?" He continued, before he caught Davey's eye, making it obvious to Jack that the pair of them were not talking alone. "I think you and I should have a word, Jack."