[He doesn't usually get seasick - not that he spends that much time out on the water - but the floor bobbing along to the waves while he's nursing a headache and a terrible hangover would make anyone nauseous. He's a little envious of that bottle of pills, considering he's got nothing on him at all at the moment, but he does score a temporary jacket, so really he has nothing to be jealous about.]

Awful kind of ye', mate. I don't work 'ere, no. Not unless there's a stripclub or a magic show and - let's be honest luv, I'm all skin and bones. The wee hand luggage's not that oversized. I'd be a much better magician than a stripper. [If he has it, he would flaunt it, and even if he doesn't have it, he would try and flaunt it also. But John's under no illusion that he's not some muscular twelve inch bloke who would be appreciated strutting around with his arse and all his other bits hanging out like he's God's gift to mankind.]

You remember anything from last night? [He means before the other man was taken or brought onboard or whatever the hell happened, and not necessarily a dramatic retelling of everything that's happened, but John would sit through a long and thorough recount of a story if he'd brought that upon himself.]

You seem dressed to the nines, mate. Were you out somewhere? With somebody?