To be fair, John had a habit of hitting on anything breathing that happened to be sentient, legal, and hot. The fact that Atton wasn't opposed to trouble was like sprinkles on a tasty tasty Terrible Idea cupcake.

And John had always had shitty impulse control.

"Blonde in the shirt," he said, nodding towards a tall girl. "She's trying to run a con on the poor drunk sods in here thinking they're too busy staring at her tits to notice when she takes an extra card or pulls from her lap, and she's doing a shit job of it."