10-01-2013, 08:33 AM
Claire wasn't too convinced of the man's safety, but it wasn't alcohol poisoning she was worried about. He was acting paranoid and out of touch with reality. It was kind of sad. He needed help, and luckily, there was someone who was apparently willing to provide it. Which was a good thing. She was not about to pick up a stray pet just because she felt sorry for it. I really should get a cat or something.
The bartender practically dumped a glass of water, and Claire was certain he was going to charge an arm and a leg for it. Mentioning free water in New York was bound to get a girl laughed out of the building. Or shown to a fire hydrant.
So his friend's name was Tony then. He had a nice smile touched with the vibe of bad boy danger. Tony would have been Cameron's type in a heart beat. It was like she had a magnet for attracting independent and willful men. Tony was scruffy looking, but carried a sense of danger about him. The only thing he was missing was a five o'clock shadow.
Which turned her back to Jensen. Now he had a gloriously unkempt shadow.
She nodded along with Tony, "Just take a breath and relax,"
but she was still thinking about Tony's admission. He'd only met the man that morning? And here he was going out of his way to help when the bartender seemed on the verge of bouncing their asses out the front door. Pay or no pay. Inner core Moscow was the last place Claire expected to witness an act of kindness. Had Tony not been there, she'd have turned tail and stalked on to the next bar without giving Jensen a second glance.
She inwardly rolled her eyes at her own pessimism and decided to offer Jensen a helping hand, but he retreated once more, if with less frenzy than previously.
With his hands compressing his hair, she caught a brief glimpse of a pointed look. Almost like some stern father urging them to do as he said.
With that single move, recognition clicked.
Her lips parted, both silently mouthing his name and sucking in a shocked breath of air. She looked Jensen up and down, eyes squinted as though trying to picture him as someone else.
Then a smile slowly pulled the corners of her mouth up. Now THIS was fortune. The hair. The accent. He didn't even offer a fake name for crying out loud!
Obviously, the sudden epiphany was an unexpected reaction to dealing with what she thought was a paranoid schizophrenic. Her fingers itched to toy with this discovery like winding threads of yarn into some chinese finger trap. Was the reward still available? Was the story too old to interest the press? So many options...
But no. The guy was a spooked puppy. There was no way she could kick a man when he was down. She may not stop someone else from doing it, but she was going to refrain from selling him out to the media.
She tucked a point of hair behind one ear, tilting her face playfully toward Tony. "Maybe someone should walk you home. Someone who knows the area. These streets are no place for a drunk preacher."
Emphasis on that final word an amused brow lifted while Tony processed the subtleties of her suggestion.
Claire may not kick the puppy while he wasn't looking, but that didn't mean she was interested in cradling one with sheltering arms either.
The bartender practically dumped a glass of water, and Claire was certain he was going to charge an arm and a leg for it. Mentioning free water in New York was bound to get a girl laughed out of the building. Or shown to a fire hydrant.
So his friend's name was Tony then. He had a nice smile touched with the vibe of bad boy danger. Tony would have been Cameron's type in a heart beat. It was like she had a magnet for attracting independent and willful men. Tony was scruffy looking, but carried a sense of danger about him. The only thing he was missing was a five o'clock shadow.
Which turned her back to Jensen. Now he had a gloriously unkempt shadow.
She nodded along with Tony, "Just take a breath and relax,"
but she was still thinking about Tony's admission. He'd only met the man that morning? And here he was going out of his way to help when the bartender seemed on the verge of bouncing their asses out the front door. Pay or no pay. Inner core Moscow was the last place Claire expected to witness an act of kindness. Had Tony not been there, she'd have turned tail and stalked on to the next bar without giving Jensen a second glance.
She inwardly rolled her eyes at her own pessimism and decided to offer Jensen a helping hand, but he retreated once more, if with less frenzy than previously.
With his hands compressing his hair, she caught a brief glimpse of a pointed look. Almost like some stern father urging them to do as he said.
With that single move, recognition clicked.
Her lips parted, both silently mouthing his name and sucking in a shocked breath of air. She looked Jensen up and down, eyes squinted as though trying to picture him as someone else.
Then a smile slowly pulled the corners of her mouth up. Now THIS was fortune. The hair. The accent. He didn't even offer a fake name for crying out loud!
Obviously, the sudden epiphany was an unexpected reaction to dealing with what she thought was a paranoid schizophrenic. Her fingers itched to toy with this discovery like winding threads of yarn into some chinese finger trap. Was the reward still available? Was the story too old to interest the press? So many options...
But no. The guy was a spooked puppy. There was no way she could kick a man when he was down. She may not stop someone else from doing it, but she was going to refrain from selling him out to the media.
She tucked a point of hair behind one ear, tilting her face playfully toward Tony. "Maybe someone should walk you home. Someone who knows the area. These streets are no place for a drunk preacher."
Emphasis on that final word an amused brow lifted while Tony processed the subtleties of her suggestion.
Claire may not kick the puppy while he wasn't looking, but that didn't mean she was interested in cradling one with sheltering arms either.