"I'm not falling asleep! I'm awake, for fuck sake. Stop nagging me," John complained, waving his hand in dismissal as he tried to get the Doctor to knock that off. He wasn't stupid, he knew how to keep himself away. Though usually he did that through partying and drinking non-stop. Hey, if it worked, it worked. And there people were, trying to sober him up.

"If I vomit out my organs and die here, I'm haunting you. Are ghosts real? Like real real not like echoes? I've never really thought much on it but if they were, I very much want to be here to haunt you," John insisted, even if he didn't really blame the Doctor for it, he figured the TARDIS would be fun place to spend his afterlife. New place, lots of rooms and hell, a guy like this had to have a stash of illegal weapons or booze or something. No one was that good in life, especially not someone who seemed so off. "Or maybe the Torchwood hub. It'd be like being trapped eternally in an elaborate well plotted porno."