John 2 has what John Crichton is going to forever call the Businessman Handshake. High-roller handshake. It's exactly what you'd expect from some big hot shot in Vegas. All in your face, friendly, and yet you weren't sure if you were leaving the next morning in just your birthday suit or in a brand new Corvette, on the house. John suspects he's too tipsy to be up for this tonight.

He'd rather take the Corvette option.

"Oh, uh, yeah. Coincidences and stuff all around," John focuses on trying to disentangle his hand from John 2's. Harder than it looks. It's not really helping when his coordination is kinda crap right now and he finds himself starting to lean to the side. You know what they say about the properties of inertia and something about his professor back in college, the one with the godawful Mr. Rogers taste in sweaters. Something about proportional mass. And he's sure there's something about handshakes being really hard to get out of when your proportional mass was sliding over to the side. Don't quote him on the science right now.

John slides into John 2, staggering. "Oops! Sorry. Really nice to see some Earthlings, you know? Not the Earth man out. Got tired of it."

By now he's leaning more of his weight on John 2. Unfortunately, he might just outweigh the other man.