John's voice was a rich, deep rumble, like the sound of distant thunder on a summer afternoon. - The baritone tone caressed the air as he chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that sent a shiver down your spine.

"You're a real cougar, ain'tcha?" He drawled, his words a lazy drawl as he took a slow, deliberate drag of his cigarette. "Half my lifespan," he continued, his gaze flickering up and down your form. "That what you like, eh?"

His lips curled into a sly grin, his eyes narrowing as he appraised you. He took another drag of his cigarette, the smoke curling around his face as he exhaled. He reached into his pocket, retrieving a small notepad and a pen. His hand moved quickly and skillfully across the page, pen scratching against paper in a series of sharp, precise strokes.

"Here ya go," he finally said, his voice low and gravelly. He held out the cigarette to you, the smirk still playing at the corner of his mouth. "Come and see me sometime."