Besides a more memorable morning with Kealey, the almost-Coffee Shop girl, Stephen's first day in New York City had been quiet, just as he hoped. He had enough money to take care of himself for a little while thanks to his last job, so he had no reason to take any real risks for the first month or so. It was the peaceful, if not slightly boring time for him. He had time to paint, read and enjoy a moderately comfortable life style.

After a trip to watch the Mets afternoon game and a dinner of ballpark hot dogs and pizza, Stephen decided to find a local bar, (not a challenge in New York City.) He was not looking for a club, at least not for the first night. He was just looking for something more akin to a tavern or pub.

Instead of walking aimlessly until he happened to pass by a bar, he decided this opportunity was as good as any to check out the nice temporary phone he sprang for. He found an app he downloaded earlier that offered nearby options for local attractions, scrolling through the list mulling over his options, all but oblivious to his surroundings, forgetting the mood of most New York City sidewalks.

Allison had known, as long as she could remember, that wandering large cities at night was not the best choice ever. It put her in danger, if not of being attacked, at least of being catcalled. A loose jacket toned those down a bit, though, and a turned up iPod drowned the rest of those out. And any potential attackers would probably be too drunk to catch her, seeing as she was in an area with a very high density of bars. She’d already picked up a very entertaining amount of loose change and other various bits of things... and another--shiny, even--something was in front of her. She vaguely considered not bothering, it was probably much more in line with a broken piece of glass than anything useful... but why not.

Leaning over made her even harder to see, since she was wearing dark colors and small to begin with, and left her iPod sticking out of her not quite big enough pocket to a somewhat precarious degree. Which was promptly demonstrated, as--presumably a leg--bumped into her shoulder at the same time as a foot landed on the loose cord from the headphones, sending her falling the last few inches to sit on the sidewalk, a bit harder than she’d prefer but not particularly painfully, and her iPod and headphones out of her pocket and ears and onto the sidewalk.

Well. That, probably, would be why not.

Stephen was reintroduced to the real world with a rather abrupt bump to the leg. Naturally, he looked up in front of him, therefore not initially seeing his obstacle: the poor girl crouching in front of him. He began falling forward, trying to catch his balance so he did not just tackle her. While trying to catch himself, his first step caught a headphone cord without Stephen noticing. His second step, he noticed much more, as he heard a cracking sound which, unfortunately, was this girl's iPod. This girl's late iPod who suffered a death far before its time.

Stephen did manage to fall to the left of the girl, not knocking her over, but certainly landing on his own bottom. The unfortunate situation hit him in waves. Oh no, I basically assaulted a random girl... oh no, I look like an moron sitting on the sidewalk... oh no! That's a broken iPod between us.

Getting to his feet quickly, Stephen regained his composure, but put on his best "panicked and apologetic" face before approaching the girl. "I'm real sorry, sugar! I wasn't watchin' where I was going! Does that thing have a warranty? If not, I'll gladly buy you a new one." It is ten-thirty. "Well, I could give you the money or buy it tomorrow or something!" People who are worried and apologetic tend to speak hastily and overcompensate for their mistakes, so Stephen did his best to enact that. It was not that he was not sorry for what he did, but he was not very good at genuine apologetic behavior, so acting would have to do.

“Er....” Allison blinked for a moment, as her mind attempted to catch up with her sudden relocation to the ground, and the equally sudden appearance of someone in front of her. “That one? Um....” She grabbed for it, and dug her luckily uncrushed phone out of her pocket to acquire enough light to check the color. “No, I don’t think so.” It was her oldest iPod; a gift from her parents some Christmas or birthday three or four years ago, when they were trying not to be outdone by the computer her aunt had gotten her. She felt significantly more regret at the lack of pain from losing the gift than from its actual loss. “Thanks, but I’ve got another, that’s okay.”

At about that point Allison’s mind stopped frantically catching up, backed up, and went over the sort of conversation enough to note something. She blinked again, raised her hand, and licked her palm around the phone she was still holding. No luck. She tried her opposite arm, and got no more. “But I don’t taste like sugar.”

Stephen Graves had spent what was almost a decade lying to others and always knowing the right thing to say and the right moment to say it. He had been doing this as a profession. Failing to do so would very often mean consequences like jail time, assassination attempts or getting his face punched in. Yet, despite his experience, this girl licking her arms on a New York sidewalk had completely disarmed him.

"I, um, well... what?" Hm, speechless, that's new. Never been speechless before. Wait, focus! Stephen mustered every particle of focus he had left to regain his composure. "Sorry, that was just one of the more interesting introductions I've ever experienced." Mental note: Don't call her hun or honey, either. She'll probably check to make sure she doesn't stick to the ground.

He looked at the broken iPod and shrugged. "Are you sure? I would have no issue buying you a new one." Stealing a pile of money makes it much easier to be readily generous. He still felt sorry for his mistake and this girl seemed... well, like she could guarantee a bit of entertainment. "Well, um, I was just on my way to a bar to round out the night with a drink. Are you twenty-one?" It was rather debatable; she looked pretty young. "I know it wouldn't make up fer an iPod, but if you'd like, I'd love to buy you a drink as an apology." Plenty of people would not readily go to a bar with a stranger, but something about this girl seemed... unique enough that she might. He honestly had no intention of flirting with the girl, (besides the craziness, she was not really his type,) but he felt like being nice and keeping this girl around. It was almost like keeping your eye on the car in a race you just know is going to cause the pile-up.

Allison grinned at the boy, shifting to her knees and then toes to stand up. “Interesting’s good.” Better than freaky, weird, get away before you contaminate me....

She nodded at his question, then grinned. “I’ve got another.” Or two? Maybe? Well, the cracked one and the undamaged one. “I am.” She tilted her head, thinking. Strange guy probably not from here who wants to buy me alcohol. That doesn’t trigger every awkward alarm ever. Buuuut he does have an excuse to ask, so. Whatever. Awkward’s not impossible to deal with. “Sure, thanks. You know where you’re going?”

As expected, this girl decided there was no problem taking a chance to get a drink with a stranger. "Glad to see there are people in New York that are none too scared to trust people. If I'm being really honest though, I was just wandering, trying to find a place that seemed like a winner. If you know any good places around here, I'd definitely appreciate some guidance." What odd luck that his GPS lead him to a person who could lead him to the bar he was looking for to begin with!

Stephen offered his hand in introduction. "My name's Nate. I'm new to the city, if you couldn't tell." After an afternoon with the name, calling himself Nate was feeling more natural now. Maybe his persona being a Southerner like himself was helping the transition. It did take a little longer to become an Irishman or a Canadian. "Care to lead the way?

Allison grinned. Trust wasn’t quite the issue, but she’d go with it. “Nothing I’ve done has gotten me killed yet, figure you can’t be too bad, and I’m not on anyone’s kill list that I know of.” She stood smoothly and stretched as she thought. “Don’t know too many places, or I know the names but not where they are. No one to go with, but plenty of classmates to eavesdrop on.”

Allison took Nate’s hand, started to shake it, then thought better and spun toward him as if they were in some dance, regardless of his opinion on the idea. “I’m Allison. Aren’t you supposed to lead?”

It probably should not have been a huge surprise that Allison did not know the drinking scene; she was not portraying herself as the "typical college girl," that's for sure. "I guess you have a point, huh? Alright, I offered the drink, I guess I have to lead." He took a peak at his cell phone, finding the location of the nearest bar, settling on it. "I don't know where I'm going, so follow me!"

Stephen kept a quick pace along the sidewalk, looking at the numbers on buildings; he was already on the right street. Spotting the 913 he was searching for, he gestured toward the bar, "This place looks good as any. Shall we?"

Pushing open the swinging doors, they entered into a pretty quiet bar; a few older men at the corner of the bar, some college groups at tables and a few frat boy-types at the bar watching some sports program. "Care where we sit?

Allison sighed as her dancing was ignored, then perked up when Nate said he didn’t know where he was going. “Oh, good. Adventures are fun.” She followed as he walked--more quickly than she could easily keep up with, really. Skipping was considered, but dropped after a few steps in favor of humming and coming as close to dancing as she could while walking at that speed until they reached a bar. “Sure.”


The bar was quieter than Allison really would have expected, considering the time of night and presence of college students in the area. “Nope, not really.” She gave up humming and attempted dancing in favor of peering around the bar. Nothing hugely interesting, and no one she knew, unless you counted Nate.

True to her first impression, Allison danced and hummed along behind him. He would have slowed his pace, but to be honest, it was making him chuckle and he was trying to figure out whether she was humming a real song or one she made up.

With the choice left to him, Stephen walked to the nearest bar stool. "Why don't we just take a seat at the bar then? I don't make it a habit of drinking too much on Sunday nights, so we probably won't be here long enough for a table." The bartender spotted them approach and asked what they would be drinking. "Just a shot of whiskey for me, sir." And now for the question he was curious about. "So what'll you be drinking, h--" Don't call her "hun" or she'll taste herself again. "dear?"

Allison followed Nate to the bar, perching on a stool next to him with a shrug. The lack of a good place to put her feet was slightly irritating, but hardly something she wasn’t used to. She started tapping a toe on air instead, echoing the song she’d been humming earlier.

Deer? Allison felt the top of her head, then examined her hands as she answered absently. “Not sure. I like just about anything if it’s sweet. What’d you suggest?” She found no hooves, nor any indication of such on her hands, and twisted and looked down to examine her feet before looking back up at Nate. “I don’t look like a deer.”

She quite neatly focused on the part of her mind that was considering different species of deer and their physical features, and not the part that was recalling her parents training and applauding her earlier question. See what he suggests. See how much he pays--what it’s worth to him to make up for bumping into you--and how much alcohol it has--if he wants you drunk and how much. See if he’s potentially useful. That part of her mind was neatly kicked away, back to its corner where it could plot with itself and not bother her. Not everything has to be a business opportunity.

Stephen laughed impulsively after Allison's evaluation of her species. Rather than try to explain the phenomenon of homophones, he just went with it. "Sorry, you're right, how silly of me; I guess those ain't doe eyes after all."''

Not surprisingly at this point, she left the choice of drink up to him, with the vague limitation of something "sweet." He thought about a fruity drink, but since the girl had tried tasting herself earlier, he decided on something more sugary sweet. "Well then, how does an amaretto and cranberry sound?" One thing Stephen lacked by missing out on the college experience was the ability to think like a college drinker; his taste was more scotch and wine than cheap beer and vodka.

The tapping of her toe sounded familiar before he realized it was the same song she was humming. "There's that song again! Is that a real song or are you just makin' it up?"

Allison stuck her tongue out as Nate laughed at her, then grinned. “They are not. They are bipedal eyes.”

Allison did not know much about drinking. She knew how to judge how much alcohol was in something by the taste, price, and type of drink, and how it would affect her, but not a whole lot about individual drinks. She shrugged cheerfully. “Sounds good.”

“It’s a real song.” Allison hummed a bit more of it along with the tapping before answering fully. “It’s Miss Lucy.”

There was a grin and some wit, leaving him to hope that, if she could respond pretty normally to a joke, maybe there was hope for a normal night yet. That was an almost disappointing thought; he was starting to enjoy the eccentricities of the girl.

She seemed uncertain but willing to give the drink a chance, so he gestured to the bartender that the drink would be fine and he went to pour the drinks. "Miss Lucy? I don't think I've ever heard that'n... how does it go?"