John isn't sure what he's expecting when he asks for his boss's secret to success. Or rather, he isn't sure which of things he's expecting are going to come out. A joke, in line with some of the other conversation they've had tonight? Something prepackaged and insincere, or frustrated? A bunch of obvious fucking bullshit?

He never imagines that the answer he gets will be as earnest as it is. Equally brimming with the enthusiasm and unwavering confidence of someone speaking their will onto the world. John goes from grinning, to thoughtful, to sipping his drink in rapt attention as del Mar goes from point to point.

What a guy. To speak so sincerely to some middle manager in a seedy bar.

Neither does he expect how much the words affect him. Where they hit, and how hard. Del Mar doesn't just give him the secrets to business, he gives John his philosophy on success as a whole. On the way one needs to act to be rewarded by the world in whatever they pursue. He can't help retroactively applying them to his past self.

Memories flood to the surface of weeks of training ending in pain. Of his energy and creativity and confidence slowly draining out of him like blood from an open wound every time the wall ahead of him refused to budge. An old bitter ache and anger at himself blossoms as he's read a laundry list of tools for success that overlap very little with his mindset by the end of his dreaming.

But then his boss says the most surprising thing. Just as John's resigned himself to accepting that he's not the kind of person who could ever do what del Mar did he slams his foot into the proverbial door.

'The most important thing, though, above all, is . . . you’ll never get anywhere all on your own.'

And he also remembers another part of the end. Nights studying, alone. Friends who'd given up long ago and peers who felt too far ahead or behind to help him. Inadequacy that choked him so bad he couldn't bring himself to talk to another trainer after the fifth, sixth, seventh failed attempt. It chokes him now.

"Allies . . . huh," he says on a laugh meant to hide the shining in his eyes, but just moves the water from his eyes to his throat. He turns away and blinks a couple times. Buries a cough under the last of his drink before turning back around like nothing happened.

"And what do you look for in your posse, boss? What singular trait do you look for before any other?" he questions with a smile.

The question is in line with the last but secretly, horribly selfish. Del Mar has admitted to appreciating John as an employee behind a desk, but part of John wants desperately to know if all those years ago -- if their ages were in sync -- if someone as bedecked with victory as him would have ever picked poor, struggling Johnny for his team.