She grinned up at him. "Man of the world, I see," she murmured, feeling his eyes on her and knowing he was checking her out. That... was amusing. "But you're right. Soho, I mean. Not that I spent too much time there. And you? I can tell you're a yank, but I can't tell from where. I'm afraid I do not have your finely tuned ear. Which I'm sure is a story in its own right, how you learned to distinguish accents so well as to pick a neighborhood in London."
She considered a moment, the shrugging to herself, looped her arm through his. Partly because she really was feeling flushed and a bit faint from dehydration, but mostly because she just wanted to touch him.
She wasn't at all prepared for, and yet not at all surprised by, the shock of recognition that came when she actually touched his skin.