John settles in, perhaps slightly closer than he needs to be, snatching the cigarette and immediately letting out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. he starts patting his chest for his lighter except - oh right. "Bollocks," he mutters, concentrating and snapping his fingers instead, but nothing as usual. No fire, apparently he's a one trick pony now. "Don't suppose you've got a light, too?"

He's not really the survivalist in nature type, at least, not without his magic. Teleporting is fun and all, but it doesn't actually help him do much, except maybe run away.

"Fuck if I know, squire. I didn't even chant."