Buckling up, John glanced in the mirror, adjusted it, and then looked behind anyway to check his blind spot as he reversed out of the park. "That's my guy," he murmured, and leaned to peck Bobby on the cheek, sighing in pleasure at the burst of cool air even as he got them out of the car park and out onto the road back to London.

"Did you eat on the plane?" he wondered once they were out on the highway. "I can find somewhere to stop," he told Bobby, all too happy to help. Sure, his style of driving was perhaps a bit too...jagged at times for someone who was a) unfamilar with British road and b) prone to motion sickness - but John always had issues with other things yanking his body out from under him. Driving a car was easy when he was in charge. He knew what he was going, after all, and swerved through the line of cars to get ahead without breaking a sweat.