Night Vale. [John's never heard of it, but he doesn't want to offend. He's picturing some small town somewhere rural. He doesn't think his place of origin needs introducing given his accent but he does it anyway out of courtesy.]

I like the sound of that. We don't have that in Britain. [He doesn't specify Liverpool, mostly because he doubts anyone outside of England knows where it is and also because he doesn't want to talk about the Beatles. Or football.

The blond starts walking out of the hospital, expecting Cecil to follow. It's awkward to carry on a conversation with so many people passing in and out by the entrance.]

So can you- feel with that? Extra set of hands to grab a pint? [Or grab. Other things.]