[he was quiet for a moment, content to sit with the silence and their drinks...but Booth never really was one for quiet and it's not that much longer before he speaks up again]
[ John could do quiet, though this is not the sort of comfortable silence among friends so much as it is a lack of things to say. His eyes flicker over at the question. Sherlock had mentioned former military about Booth, and Sherlock was almost never wrong. Not that John couldn't recognize such a thing himself by the way the man held himself. ]
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Where do you think I'm from?
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England. Or...Britain...or whatever the hell you're supposed to call it now.
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England is a part of Britain, yeah. That's like saying you're from the United States.
What part of England, do you suppose?
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You expect me to know what part of your country you sound like you're from; I don't see how it's different.
Unless you can't name more than two cities in England. S'alright if you don't - just admit it.
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[you know what they say about size.
...and no, he can't]
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Nevermind. [ Bartender, please bring him another round. ]
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[he was quiet for a moment, content to sit with the silence and their drinks...but Booth never really was one for quiet and it's not that much longer before he speaks up again]
Army, right?
[see? He can make nice]
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Used to be, yeah. RAMC. You?
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How long since?
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Before that, though, it'd been awhile. I'm a special agent with the FBI, now.