Chapter 30

~~Jack~~

“I uh, have a girlfriend.”

“Oh, damn.” She let go of his shoulder, but shrugged and kept walking. “Glad you told me though. Surprising, given your circumstances. Figured you might have said yes to a date just to get on my good side.”

“The thought had occurred to me.” Except suffering Antoinette’s wrath would have been a million times worse than pissing off Clara’s whole pack, let alone just her.

“It’s not Natasha is it?”

“No.”

“That’s good. It’d really make this whole situation awkward wouldn’t it?” More chuckles.

Clara was a fun woman, Jack realized. Fun in the classic sense, in the go-out-for-drinks-for-silly-times fun sort of way. Not that he ever did much of that in his life, but the longer he talked with the woman, the more he felt like laughing with her as she chuckled and made bad jokes. An infectious personality type, good at making friends. Or just really good at the game.

They stopped in front of an old factory. The outside was run down but not to the point of destroyed or decrepit, and the windows were big and clean enough he could see through them up to the ceiling inside. There was some light in there, but not the building’s; some lamps or flashlights then.

Clara opened the side door, and waited for him to walk in first.

“Hope your pack mates are as calm as you,” he said.

“Hit or miss on that. Don’t worry about it though, we aren’t stupid. Just keep the pistol in its holster and I bet you’ll come out of this with all your limbs still attached.”

“ ... bet?”

She laughed and pat him on the shoulder as she followed in behind him. “I’m thinking ninety-nine percent chance you’ll be fine.”

One percent chance he was a dead man? Well, good odds at least. Not sure why it wasn’t a hundred percent chance of survival, but maybe Clara was joking again. Maybe.

“Clara, brought company?” a man said. Big guy, very very tall, soft brown hair. Enforcer type Jack would have guessed, but no one was wearing any clothes that would suggest a rank. Everyone was just wearing street clothes like the Carthians did.

Once he was near the pack, he glanced to each member. Yeah, Carthians were a good comparison of the werewolves, jeans and t-shirts included. He counted a dozen including Clara, and each looked strong, fit, built for fighting. None of them seemed dressed for negotiations or politics or such, and all of them were standing or sitting around with casualness.

“ ... Jack?”

The tiny voice of Natasha. He smiled as he came into view of her, and offered her a small wave. She was sitting on a table, legs dangling, and her arms tied behind her back.

“Natasha, thank god you’re ... where are your clothes?” She was wearing some simple blue pants and a white blouse, and that was most definitely not what she went out wearing last night.

“Got kind of t-t-torn up when these guys caught m-me.”

Jack raised a brow and looked at the wolves again. Guys. She called them guys. And they’d brought her a change of clothes? A little more comfortable than he expected of Natasha.

“Glad you’re ok.”

“B-But why’re you here? ... why not Jessy?”

Jack put up his hands a bit. “It was Jessy’s idea. We went looking for you in the tunnels, ran into Clara. She felt I should be the one to do this negotiation.”

“Negotiation, bleh. Why couldn’t we have captured a Carthian? Least this talk would have been interesting.” Clara shrugged and walked over to join her pack. She nodded to a couple of them, and one of them she did a small handshake with. “So Avery isn’t back yet, but I’m fine to handle this myself.”

Jack held up a hand. “Can I speak with Natasha for a moment first?”

“Fine fine.” She gestured to the other vampire, then grabbed a chair to sit; but not before she spun it around so she could sit in it with her elbows on its back. Comfortable about the whole situation, Clara was, and confident. No reason not to be, strong as she was.

She was underestimating Kindred. Good.

Jack nodded and walked over to Natasha. The big guy with the soft brown hair, and a slightly-smaller-but-still-huge guy with dark messy hair were both sitting near Natasha, and they offered him a small nod of their own before they got up and went to sit with Clara. Friends of the Mekhet’s? Would explain her almost familiar tone.

Once the pack was far enough away he could whisper, he went to the furthest end of the table, and Natasha scooted over along the table’s surface to join him. Her ankles were bound as well; not running anywhere like that.

“They treating you ok?” he said.

“Yeah. Other than the ... p-painful introduction, it seems f-f-fine now.”

“Clara mentioned someone named Avery. Pack leader?”

Natasha nodded. “Clara is second in c-command.”

“They tell you why they’re keeping you prisoner?”

“J-Just ... as a hostage ... to force a negotiation.”

Well, he wasn’t sure what Clara was thinking then, getting him for it instead of Jessy. Best he could do was be a messenger. Maybe Clara figured that was better than a pointless negotiation then. Better to ask forgiveness than for permission.

“Jessy, Amanda, and Vivienne have probably reported this location now.”

“ ... Vivi came?”

He smiled. “She did.”

The Mekhet lowered her head a little, her own smile coming through, before she took a breath and sat up straight once more.

“They’re j-just trying to avoid a repeat of last t-t-time.”

“We got any details on what happened last time? Jessy said some Kindred died during a werewolf hunt, and now Jacob has an issue with Avery.”

She shook her head. “Sounds like you know as m-m-much as I d-do. Maria never gave us many d-d-d-details.”

“ ... you sure you’re ok? We found bits of your suit, and we saw what they did to catch you. I’m surprised you still have your limbs.”

His words earned him some trembles and shivers from her, and she’d probably be rubbing her own arms in a self hug if they were free to do so.

“It was ... it was b-b-bad, but they let me feed on one of them. I’m fine n-now.”

Feed on a werewolf. He looked over at the pack, and a couple of them raised a brow as they met his eyes. One of them in particular was looking at Natasha, a small smile on his lips. The one with jaw-length messy dark hair, and looked a bit like Clara. Perhaps also from Mexico?

“Anything I should know?”

“Um, they ... they just want t-t-to get permission to perform their hunt.” She looked at him for a moment, then to the pack. “Or at least want t-to explain their actions b-b-before they do them anyway.”

“Sounds reasonable of them. Not sure what use I am in that though.” He scratched his head and looked over at the pack again, and Clara in particular. She was still throwing him the occasional smile, and sneaking glances at his shoes, his suit, his ... everything. Since when did girls notice him? They always just called him cute and adorable and kid and everything he took as an insult, or at least platonic. But after meeting Alex in the club, and seeing how easy it was to open people up with some playful banter, even flirt, he realized he really had to reanalyze all those old conversations.

Such a stereotype, that he couldn’t realize a girl was flirting with him unless she wrapped her legs around his head.

“Call Mire yet?” Natasha said.

“No. And I’m on board with what Clara said. I want to get their words first, before I get a biased opinion from people who were here last time they visited.”

Natasha winced, but nodded, and smiled again. “Thanks ... for looking for me.”

“Thank Jessy. Friends like that are hard to come by.” He adjusted his suit, took a deep breath — useless — and walked back toward the pack. “Alright. What do you want in exchange for Natasha’s freedom?”

“Easy.” Clara waved a hand again, as if everything was ok, nothing was wrong, what could possibly warrant caution? Typical disarming tactic. Or genuine disregard and lack of concern for the seriousness of present circumstances. Julias would know. Jack would have to make his best guess. “I need you to tell the Prince that the tunnels in the area we found you are off limits.”

“Me? Talk to the Prince?” A little feigning innocence never hurt anyone. “What makes you think I can do that?”

“Avery assures me if a Kindred goes to your Elysium, and asks to speak to the Prince, she’ll grant the audience just for the sheer curiosity. Perfect opportunity to bypass the bullshit and get to the head of the snake.”

He frowned and grit his teeth. “Why can’t I talk to my bosses and have them carry the message?”

“Cause Avery rem—”

“Cause I remember Jacob, and Antoinette, and Viktor and Tony and Lucas and Garry and Maria and Michael.”

Everyone turned to look at the door as a small woman walked into the old factory. Lit by nothing but some LED lamps sitting on tables, it made for an interesting entrance as Avery came to stand beside Clara. Avery was short, only a few inches taller than Natasha, but she had some serious muscle to her otherwise small frame. She looked forty years old, maybe a bit older, lightly tanned skin, and a long black ponytail. And just like her pack, she was dressed in some simple street clothes.

But Jack took a small step back at the sight of her. Just a reflex, just a little thing he couldn’t control, but the beast in his gut forced it, made him want to run and hide. A mouse before the barking, frenzied dog. The small woman looked perfectly nice though. This was the beast from the fifties who’d caused so much trouble?

“ ... Jack Terry,” he said, and bowed slightly.

“Heh, Avery Dunsbill.” She folded her arms across her chest, and looked down at the sitting Clara beside her. “This is who you got? Kid looks eight.”

Ok, Clara may have been flirting with him, but Avery was most definitely not. There was a sneer on her face when she looked at him, and she grit her teeth the same way he did. Her silver blue eyes cut into him like shining daggers.

“I had some options,” Clara said, “and I think this kid has potential. People seem to listen to him, and he’s good at talking. Young too, like David said they’d be, so don’t be a jackass and give him a chance. Try not burning this bridge again?”

For just a moment, a split-second image of two wolves growling at each other flashed. Clara, barking at her leader, Avery, and Avery defending her position as leader. It was in the eyes, in their sneers and quiet-but-there growls, in their posture where they puffed their chests up a bit and flexed some of their muscles. It was all subtle, hidden in clothes and some social etiquette, but it was there. Reading these people would be weird; they weren’t people, they were wolves.

And David said they’d get a negotiator, a young one. Who was David, and why did he care? Jack kept adding notes to his mental list, until it was looking like an Invictus contract in his brain.

“Why didn’t you ask Natasha to talk to the Prince? Why get another Kindred?” he said.

“David said she doesn’t fit the bill. We needed someone younger, like you.”

David wanted someone younger, someone impressionable then. Well, at least they were honest about it.

“I am willing to talk to the Prince.”

Avery sighed, shrugged, and came a bit closer before leaning against a nearby table. “Judging by the suit, you’re with the Invictus.”

“I am.”

“And from what Natasha’s told me — and Garry confirmed — Viktor’s dead, and now his childe’s taken his place. Julias seemed like a nice guy, so maybe there’s hope for your kind yet. But, I digress.” She smirked when she said ‘digress’, dancing on the unspoken judgment she thought he held that she was uncouth or stupid. Well, there was no denying she was uncouth. “I was here before, as you probably know by now. The details of that hunt are not for you, but it didn’t end well for some vamps who got caught in the middle.”

Every time they said the word hunt, they raised their inflection, and made sure to enunciate the word with some power. Whatever it was they were hunting, it was the hunting act that was important to the werewolves. Ideas or suggestions for hunting something else or changing their tactics were dwindling by the second.

“I understand.”

“I’m sure. So, what we need is a middleman who we can explain our actions to. Explain, not request. We’re here because your damn Prince invites major problems with her hobbies, and she can burn for all I care.” Avery shrugged, and wiped off imaginary dirt from her shoulder, only for Clara to elbow her in the side. The Alpha sighed, but nodded. “We tell you what we’re up to, and you tell us what the Primogen have to say about it. Middleman. Understand?”

“ ... are ... are you sure you need a middleman? Can’t one of your pack communicate with the Primogen?”

“Tried that last time, and it only led to arguments. Your Primogen have giant pineapples up their asses; couldn’t get them out even if their unlives depended on it. Maybe Garry, but I’m sure the past half a century has changed him too.” She paused on Garry’s name for a moment, and her eyes fell to glance at the ground before raising to Jack once more. “So, you’re the middleman. If the Primogen or anyone else shows up and tries to make a case for whatthefuckever, I can’t guarantee it won’t lead to more arguments, more confrontation.” She came closer again, until maybe only five feet separated the little Kindred from the little Uratha. “And you won’t win a fight with us.”

He gulped, and glanced back at Natasha. She did the same thing.

“You’re putting a lot of faith in me,” he said.

“Putting faith in David. You’re just a mouthpiece kid.”

Yeah, sure, he’ll just walk into a Primogen meeting and explain that the werewolves have proclaimed a section of the tunnels their hunting grounds. Cause the Kindred would look so kindly on werewolves telling them what they do or don’t do in the vampire city.

But the Uratha seemed determined, and when he looked at them, they all looked confident in Avery’s decision. Confident and excited. Even Clara, who didn’t seem to like her leader’s attitude toward Kindred, looked intense and eager whenever someone mentioned the hunt.

“And if the Primogen say they would prefer a different middleman? I’m barely a neonate of the Invictus. There are older, trained, bet—”

“David says we need someone like you,” Avery said, “so if the Prince or whoever has a problem, tell them it’s not negotiable.”

Stubborn. Nothing he wasn’t used to dealing with, but it felt different coming from a pack of wolves, who seemed more than willing to get into a fight. Like dealing with a pack of Jessys, but with the strength to back it up if what he’d been told was to be believed. And he did believe it; every foot Avery got closer made him want to bolt.

Just another day dealing with predators who could tear him apart.

“Alright. I play middleman, I tell the Prince and Primogen that the tunnels in the far end of Devil’s Corner are off limits, and that if the Primogen have anything they want to communicate, it all has to go through me.”

“That’s the plan. Think you can handle that?”

No. Nope. No not nope cannot would definitely get everyone killed in a miscommunication oh god everyone was going to die.

“Yes.”

“Perfect. You can take your friend, and be on your way. But I expect you back here in a few days, to follow up.” Apparently, Avery didn’t like using phones.

Jack offered a small bow, and turned to Natasha. The rope they used to tie her up was boating rope, tied tight; no Mekhet was going to be able to break through that. But the knot was simple enough, and he watched the observing werewolves as he undid them.

“Sure you’re ok?” he said.

“Y-Yeah. They’re ... they d-don’t seem bad,” Natasha said. “Just d-d-d-determined.”

“Yeah, I can see that.” He looked their way again, and some of them smirked at him. One of them was sitting in a corner, rocking slightly, and hugging himself; talking a little to himself too, quiet enough Jack couldn’t hear him.

He took a check of each of their faces as best he could. Remember the faces, it’ll be important, Julias would say. Two of the faces kept looking at Natasha though, with glances reading her body up and down. The one with the jaw-length dark, messy hair, and the other with the shoulder-length light brown hair, the giant. The two that had been sitting close to her when Jack came in, and they looked like they wanted to eat her. Jack looked Natasha’s way, but the Mekhet didn’t seem to react to the lingering gaze of the two werewolves. Oblivious, maybe.

“Alright, let’s go,” he said.

“Y-Yes.” She got off the table, and the two of them walked toward the main exit of the building, past the werewolves.

Like walking in front of a firing squad and hoping to not get shot. Each wolf watched them go by, and Jack fought to keep down the reflex to grab his gun or sword. Avery was somewhere between a frown and grin, Clara was smiling at him, and the two men he noticed were smiling at Natasha like she was bacon.

What a weird negotiation.

Outside again. Air, moonlight, clouds and stars and the mostly-quiet of North Side’s night. They kept walking, both silent, both looking down at the sidewalk, both shivering a little.

“ ... werewolves,” he said after a while.

“Werewolves.” She peeked up at him before she put her eyes back on the sidewalk, and her pace increased slightly. “They’re ... they ... I...”

He pulled out his phone, and called Jessy. Jessy was her friend, not him, not the same sort of friend at least. But by the time it was ringing, he could hear the ring from down the street.

A woman in a trench coat came running. Natasha and Jack both stopped and looked at each other, and the little Mekhet smiled, before Jessy reached them and scooped her up.

“God damn it Natasha! Fucking disappeared, and then I go looking and find werewolf tracks, and bits of your suit, and Bob said you were looking into spiders? What the fuck?”

Jessy held Natasha somewhere between a hug and a grapple, and shook her friend as she ranted on about worrying about her. So damn cute, seeing the tall woman wrestle her friend; Natasha’s attempts to escape were fruitless.

“H-Hey, I’m ok! I’m ok.”

“Bullshit. How bad did you get hurt? Swear to fucking god I will—”

“I ... I got hurt, yeah. But then they let m-m-me feed, and apologized.”

“Apologized?”

“Sort of,” Natasha said. “It was an accid-d-dent. Wrong place, wrong t-time.” Once Jessy put her down, the three of them started walking in a row. Like old times. Not that Jack had much right to think like that, short lived a time as it was, but it made him smile when he looked there way.

Jack and Natasha recounted the events of the meeting, the werewolves they met, Clara and Avery, and Natasha filled in some blanks about others, David, Arturo, Matt, Stephanie, and some she hadn’t learned the names of.

“It was crazy,” she said. “I p-put so many bullets into them, and they just ... just got b-back up. They were big, and huge, and massive, and ... and ... the claws.” She hugged herself a bit, and when she looked down at herself, she laughed and shook her head. “I need a change of clothes, and I must report back t-to the P-Prince.”

“You’re telling me,” Jessy said. “The bosses are going to freak over this, Michael especially.”

“So ... you really ... looked for me?” Natasha said.

“Fucking course I did. We have a system, right? You would have looked for me. Besides, I finally got someone to share my ghouls with, think I’ll give that up?”

Natasha meeped and looked down, avoiding eye contact with Jack. Jessy really gave no shits about personal boundaries. But Jack shrugged and did his best apologetic smile for Natasha’s embarrassment.

“Hey, I can’t judge. I’m sharing the Prince’s ghouls all the time.” In all ways, as he was sure Jessy also meant.

“Dude, awesome.” Jessy put up her hand and awaited a high five. Jack, wincing as the nineties came back and punched him in the face, gave her the high five.

Natasha peeked up at them, and a smile sneaked its way onto her face.

“So,” Jack said, “werewolves.”

Jessy nodded with a loud sigh. “Not just, but Avery you said? All the elders are going to be upset. But from what Michael told me, they can’t just force them out. Not easily, anyway. Not without a lot of bullets and a lot of risked lives.”

“ ... Jess,” Natasha said, “I’m going to t-talk with Jack. I’ll see you later?”

“Eh? You sure?”

“I’m sure.”

“Alright. I’ll see you later then. Jack you fucking report this shit in tomorrow night, get me?”

“Sir, yes sir.” Jack saluted, just the way Jessy liked. She smirked and walked off, offering a wave over her shoulder as she went.

“ ... I w-wonder why Vivienne and Amanda d-didn’t join her.”

“You mean just now? Amanda I’m sure has gone back to Xnomina to fill out a report or something. Vivi, she ... I don’t know. I understand you two don’t talk anymore.”

“We don’t. I ... perhaps I was t-too young, to embrace a childe.” She sighed, shook her hair out, and started walking with Jack once more.

“You were, what, over forty years embraced when you sired her? Don’t think anyone would call that too young.” He brought out his phone and dialed for an Invictus drive. “Sometimes people just having a falling out.”

“Falling out ... maybe. I think I made a mistake, siring someone similar t-t-to myself.”

Well, not as similar as she thought. Jack knew Natasha had an edge to her, a blade, a degree of will she could tap into her childe didn’t seem to have. Not from what little Jack had seen of Vivienne anyway.

“You must have given those wolves hell,” he said.

“What? I ... I mean, I guess I d-d-did? Shot them, stabbed, shot and stabbed a few more t-times.” She smiled at him and stood up a little straighter. “ ... hey, c-can we ... go to your place? I want to talk about what happened, but with Jessy, it’ll be ... b-b-be a bit awkward.”

“Cause of the ghouls thing?”

“N-No! You ... you said you share the P-Prince’s ghouls?”

He nodded and smiled at the tiny ancillae. “Yeah. I mean I just brought it up to try and make you feel a bit less awkward about what Jessy said, but it’s true.”

“Heh.” Her smile was growing by the second, and she stepped in a little closer as the two walked toward the pickup zone. “B-But, that’s not why. It’s cause ... she’s Invictus, and my friend. C-Could be a little weird. She’ll ... she’ll treat me like I’m in the Invictus, even though I’m not, and ... yeah.”

He nodded. Jessy would, no doubt.

He kept his apartment in much better condition now. Not that he was ever a dirty guy, just never a clean guy either, always preferred to let things sit and accumulate dust until it was time to clean. Even the fancy apartment Julias had gotten him — that Jack now paid for on his own wages thank you very much — he let get dusty in its otherwise barebones content. But that was before he started dating Antoinette.

Jack opened the door for Natasha, and smiled a little smile as she stepped into his apartment. The couches were clean and aligned nicely with a large TV. The walls were no longer blank, but they held some posters of bands he liked; metal bands of course. And only tasteful ones that looked elegant or Gothic. He kept the sleek minimalist motif for the apartment, shades of gray and black, steel and such for colors, and he actually opened the enormous wall-window’s drapes so the light of the night city lit his place. He was adulting.

“Coming int-t-to your own,” she said as she sat down on his couch.

“Been an interesting time, yeah. Trying to grow up, and I figure decorating is at least a small step in that direction.” He sat on the other couch across from her and leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “Spent so much time relying on Julias, on you and Jessy, on Antoinette, I’ve been ... trying to get into this vampire life. I visited my mom just yesterday.”

“Oh ... really?”

“Yeah. Masochism written into my blood as much as Julias, I guess.”

“My m-m-mother died ... not long after I d-disappeared from the world. Sick. My ... my death killed her.” Natasha sighed, looked around at his posters, and then back to him, her soft face smirking as she delved back into half-a-century-old memories. “My dad d-d-died not long after. Suicide.”

“Oh ... damn.” He got up, disappeared into the kitchen, and opened the fridge. Only took a second to get a bottle of blood and return with some glasses. “Sorry I brought it up. If I speak my mind, I put my foot in my mouth, every time.”

“N-no, it’s ok. And ... and you d-d-did very well, with the werewolves. You’re ... you’re a good ambassador.” A shared nod as he handed her the glass, before he sat down and they began to drink.

“Am I?”

“Yes. You’re ... you’re good at d-disarming people. They talk more freely, and that helps when trying t-t-to cut through barriers.”

“Heh, you mean I’m a bumbling idiot that—”

“No.” She shook her head and gave him a harsh glare. Not that the little Mekhet was really capable of it, with her super petite size and soft eyes, but it was a rare look on her nonetheless, and he shut up as he looked at her. “You were g-good with the werewolves, and ... and I was there, remember? I was there when you d-d-dominated Damien, killed Lucas. I ... I was there when you saved my life, Jack.” She took a sip of the red again, before leaning back in the couch and sighing. “I am glad Julias chose you.”

Well. God damn. He could feel his ego inflate by the second. Ventrue weakness, but still.

“I was really just trying to save Antoinette—crap. See? Did it again.”

But Natasha laughed. “N-No, it’s understandable.”

“ ... you sure you don’t want to be with Jessy?”

The Mekhet fidgeted and shook her head. “No. I uh ... later. Later. For now, I wanted to t-talk with you, about the werewolves. D-Did they tell you what they were hunting?”

“No. It has something to do with spiders, but that’s all I managed to gleam.”

“How did you learn ab-bout the spiders?”

“Bob told us.”

“Oh ... oh Jessy. Did she hurt him?”

“She hurt Miss Halla a little. Nothing serious.”

“Poor Lil.” Natasha took a sip of her drink, but her eyes cast glances over its edge to the furniture in Jack’s place. It wasn’t interesting furniture, just sleek and modern, lot of blacks and whites, very Julias.

“What’s on your mind? You look distracted.” Part of him considered trying to trick it out of her, like Julias might have. But she was smarter than him, and his future of being a silver-tongued Ventrue was still a ways away. Closer, but still far off, and Natasha was not some drunk kine in a club he could wrap around his finger.

“ ... the werewolves said the P-Prince invites this trouble, whatever it is they’re hunting. You heard them.”

Oh, that. How quick he’d been to dismiss it. Biased of you much, Jack?

“I figured you’d know more about that than me. Antoinette doesn’t tell me anything about what she does behind closed doors with the dragons.” He rubbed his buzzed head, took a sip of his drink, and tilted the glass to watch the blood shift along its sides. “If it’s your covenant’s actions that are even responsible.”

“ ... they could be.” Natasha’s hand around her drink trembled, and the woman set it down. “They c-could be.”

“I—”

Knocks at the door. An unusual knock, four taps, quieter than Julias, different pattern than Antoinette. Any Invictus he had to talk to would call first. He raised a brow and looked at Natasha, but she shrugged and looked to the door too. People never buzzed from the entrance, they always managed to find a way to sneak up to his floor.

He felt under his jacket for his pistol and sword. Yeap, still there. He got up, tiptoed to the door, and looked through the peep hole.

“ ... it’s ... Damien? Damien and ... and the disappearing girl.” What the fuck, he actually found her.

Natasha hopped up and looked around, then at herself. Panic was blatant on her face as she tried to figure out something to do, like the two of them had had some sort of secret to hide.

“I ... I uh ... let them in, I g-guess?” she said. “M-Maybe they can provide answers?”

Yeah, maybe. Or dump a whole new level of problems on their lap. Jack winced but wiped off the expression before opening the door.

“Damien,” he said. Still hard to look the man in the eyes. “And ... and uh...”

“Nice to see ye again,” she said, bright smile on her freckled face. “I’m Fiona.”

From so close, he took a moment to look the vanishing woman up and down, memorizing her. She was a little short with an hourglass curvy figure, and her frizzy red hair was long and bouncy. He knew it was bouncy cause the girl was bouncing in place a bit, hands in her brown leather jacket pockets, no doubt fighting the fidgets of nervousness. Her eyes were brown, but not quite brown, almost gold, and she cracked him a grin that broke into more of an anxious smile.