Jonathan Sims

"'Phil Collins?'" John repeats with open incredulity. "Christ, that's your pull?" From a teenager, no less. He'd expect any pointed cultural comparisons to list more towards a fucking obscure youtube streamer or something to that effect, not music his grandmother had occasionally listened to.

But that's beside the point. "Sorry, are you saying you live here? Have you got a single air mattress tucked away in a corner somewhere?" He gestures pointedly towards the window he's still stood beside. "Because a cursory glance suggests it's about as open in there as a house gets."