William glanced up from the stain spreading across his shirt into eyes the color of a clear, summer sky. "S'alright," he yawned, scratching just below his ribcage. "Old shirt."
"At least let me get you another coffee."
The soft sounds of England flowed from the stranger's lips and William, like most Americans, was fascinated by the accent. "Yeah, sure. M'William, by the way."
Warm fingers met his in a surprisingly strong grip. William fell again into piercing eyes and a rather pleasant smile. "I'm Jason. Good to meet you."