Grady's natural scepticism doesn't last long against the combined forces of the booze in his system and the warm leg pressing up against his own, not to mention the eyes meeting his across the table. By the time John holds his hand out, he finds himself leaning forward a little to watch, as curious as any kid trying to see into the silk lining of a top hat.

The fire, when it suddenly appears, makes him jump, and he catches himself on the edge of the table hard enough to make the remaining bottles ring against each other. "Fuck!"

But he's quick to come back again, genuinely impressed. None of Wes' boyfriends have been able to demonstrate something like this. It's close enough to being something that Grady can understand, just a magic trick with the fakery removed, that he can allow himself to be impressed by it. Just a little.

"Hey, look at that, you're like a.. a walking Zippo." He plucks the cigarette out of his mouth and holds it up. "May I?"