"When you get to be my age most of your friends are dead. So I'm just waiting my turn is all." It was an exceptionally dark and sinister answer but John couldn't help it with the set up of being an old man. He rolled his eyes and knocked back some more of his drink, roughly wiping his face and putting out his cigarette. In part he wasn't completely lying. The people he cared about most weren't alive anymore so in all actuality wasn't he just waiting to die now too?
Wasn't everyone? "They're all in Liverpool, mate. Or spread across the sodding country. No one stays in one place." He hadn't been here long enough to try and make friends. Not that he was trying to make any. There was the whole part of trying to get his shit together in what his sister had so fondly labeled a 'refresh' but this delight of a town and it's antics were putting a bizarre damper on that.