John was sitting outside on the front stoop of the hotel, looking out at the sun. He normally wasn't much for reflection, but for some reason, he couldn't help it tonight. People seemed to be settling in to the hotel. He wasn't sure if it bothered him or not
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He decided to make his usual perimeter check and walked out the front door. A man Jack hadn't met yet was sitting on the steps staring into the distance.
"Hotel's got a great view...if you've got a thing for sand." Jack took an easy stance just a couple of feet behind the man. "Frankly, I've had my fill of sand."
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"Yeah, I hear that, but I didn't want to sit up in my room anymore." His tone was casual, though he was awfully curious about the guy. He was a little bit older than John himself, with greying hair and a sharp, tight posture and build. Who did this guy remind him of?
He had to figure it out. "I've seen a lot of sand, but never really been stuck in it for a long time. From Kansas myself." It would do for a starter. "Name's John Winchester."
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"Colonel Jack O'Neill." He gave a small shrug. Using his rank in an introduction was simply the force of some thirty years habit. "Actually, forget the colonel part. I'm not exactly on duty right now. Just call me Jack."
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"Anyhoo, this Captain Harkness I mentioned--he seems to be working on organizing our little resistance movement. Probably be a good idea for you to talk to him, if you haven't already."
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