[John was taking a small and decidedly final sip of his beer when he heard the question. First came the realization that it sounded odd: foreign, American. Next, there was the nagging feeling that despite the unfamiliar accent, it was also somehow reminiscent of a voice he'd heard somewhere before. Both of these came several painfully long seconds before he even dared entertain the idea that she was addressing him of all people, and a quick glance to his other side revealed that the American couldn't have been talking to anyone but him.
There was hardly the time to even consider whether it was a good idea to be flirting in his current state or not. As though on auto-pilot, he turned to face the woman, ready to say something. Finally getting a look at her let him know exactly why that voice sounded so hauntingly familiar: it was a ghost from his past, come to haunt him.
And that simply resulted in him nearly choking on his drink.]
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There was hardly the time to even consider whether it was a good idea to be flirting in his current state or not. As though on auto-pilot, he turned to face the woman, ready to say something. Finally getting a look at her let him know exactly why that voice sounded so hauntingly familiar: it was a ghost from his past, come to haunt him.
And that simply resulted in him nearly choking on his drink.]