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John glanced around the bar as he walked in—like the three before it, it was overflowing with sailors, all of them clearly intending on some serious downtime. He surveyed the crowd but didn’t see their number, carefully scanning it a couple times to be sure.
Just as he was about to tell Harold it was another bust, one of the sailors he’d been watching walked over to him. “Hey there,” he said, grinning and giving him an appraising look. “Looking for a good time?” It’d be impossible to miss the flirtatious edge to his tone.
John smirked, slowly. The guy was pretty attractive, he had to admit. “Just looking for a friend of mine, actually.”
“Oh? Interested in making a new friend?” asked the guy, still grinning. “I’m Alan. You could let me buy you a drink. I hear that’s how all great friendships start.”
“C’mon, Alan, I leave you alone for two seconds and you’re already hitting on the first guy you see?” Another sailor joined them; he gave Alan a shit-eating grin.
“Hey, he was looking first,” Alan said, shoving lightly at his shoulder. “Why’re you back so soon anyway, loser? What happened to those girls—the redheads? Strike out already?”
“Oh, like you’re doing any better.”
“I might be, I don’t know—you butted in.”
John glanced between them, amused. “Unfortunately, I have to go. Wouldn’t want to keep my friend waiting.”
“You’re bad luck, man,” Alan said to the other guy, but smirked at John. “Have fun. Tell your friend he’s a lucky bastard.”
“Good advice,” John said, smirking back.
He left the bar, and Harold’s voice filtered in, dryly, “Try not to have quite so much fun at the next stop, Mr. Reese.”
“What’s the matter, Harold? Jealous?”
Harold didn’t answer. John grinned widely.