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The music lulls as a stranger walks in, they take in the lay of the land, have a good look at everyone in the bar, realise that life will carry on if they walk in and carry on.
You hold your gaze with him for half a second more however, which causes him to pause and flick you a quick smile amd understanding eyes. The type of look that says, we are going to know each other intimately very very soon.
He approaches the bar and waits unti the barwoman gets to him.
"Hello my dear, 1 pint of whatever local please"
That...that didn't sound local. That sounded like The Crown on Netflix! You look over to see a tall, 6ft5 man with a shaved head and a beard. Pretty standard for these parts apart from that accent.
You consider that you must have misheard, this will be a local trucker that you surely just got the intonation wrong. But still, better to be sure and just go over and check.
You wander over to ask me where I'm from.
"Oxford, England my dear"
You flick your hair over your shoulder, trying to control an instant urge to invite me to that bathroom. Control yourself, surely you aren't just falling for an accent. You're an intelligent woman. He probably has any other than a hundred good reasons than to be here for you.
But...why would a man from there come so far? He must be looking for something here, I am probably that person...
You gently rest a hand on my thigh as I sit at the bar and ask...
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