Jenkins was about ready for the day to end, he'd spent all day going through a priceless collection of seventeenth century manuscripts in a way too hot room for the most impatient woman he'd ever met in his life. At least the hotel he was staying in had decent Bourbon. It would take him all week to go through the collection thoroughly before they could go to auction and he could leave New York, he just had to last that long and then he could return home to his peace and quiet.

The white-haired man had all but tuned out the hubbub going on in the up scale hotel bar as he sat there staring at his glass of amber liquid. It was getting late, a quick glance to his watch revealed the time to be ten-forty-five, maybe he could go to his room and read until he passed out; sounded like a plan to him. Jenkins was just about to down what was left of his drink and head off towards the elevator when a young woman who even in his peripheral vision he could tell was beautiful, sat down on the barstool to his left.

"Hi." She greeted him with a smile.

"Hello."

"Bad day?"

Jenkins didn't really look at the woman beside him, instead kept his green-hazel orbs on his glass, but it would have been rude to ignore her altogether.

"Yes, you could say that." He sighed. "My job can be time consuming and repetitive at times."

"What is it you do?" She asked with genuine curiosity which surprised the older man.

He flashed her a smile when she ordered herself a drink from the barman and nearly fell off his chair. Wow,was the first word to come to mind. This woman beside him had long flowing red hair that cuddled around her shoulders like a cloak of fire and she wore an obscenely short black dress that showed off her cleavage without veering away from elegant. Her skin was like porcelain and those eyes, so perfectly cerulean. Jenkins hadn't seen anything so beautiful since the day he'd met Charlene... as much as he felt conflicted about it the woman before him might have been even more beautiful. It took him a moment to remember she'd asked him a question and convince his mouth to open and start speaking.

"I'm an appraiser. I determine how much certain artefacts are worth or if they are forgeries."

"That sounds fascinating." She told him as she paid for her drink, some colorful concoction and that smelt overly sweet. "What sort of thing do you appraise?"

Her eyes lit up when she smiled.

He answered after taking a sip of Bourbon. "Pretty much everything, literature is my speciality though. I'm a big fan of Samuel Beckett."

That smile grew wider. "You're a very smart man, aren't you?" The question was rhetorical but Jenkins found himself answering anyway.

"Not to pat myself on the back but yes, I am."

The young redhead laughed at that and Jenkins thought it angelic.

"I like you, you're funny."

"Well, if you enjoy my humour you'll adore my sarcasm and cynicism."

She laughed again and Jenkins just soaked it all up, it was wonderful. He couldn't figure out why she'd started talking to him but he was certainly enjoying it.

"You're job sounds fun, a new mystery every week. I don't see how that could end in a bad day. Was something fake?"

Frankly his 'bad day' had ended the moment she's sat next to him. Jenkins hadn't even been as effected by Charlene this quickly and he thought the sun rose and set in her eyes.

"No, not fake. Just, the manuscripts I'm examining are vast and my current liaison doesn't seem to realise that my work takes time."

"Ahh," she nodded to herself in understanding "Thinks everything should be done at the drop of a hat. I know people like that. I don't like them."

"Nor do I. Honestly, I don't particularly like people in general."

"Nor do I." She said to copy him though that smile never faded. "What's the best thing you've ever appraised?"

It confused Jenkins that this incredibly beautiful and young – no more than twenty-five – woman actually seemed to want to talk to him. Shouldn't she have been sat there fending off young men not talking to grumpy old him? Jenkins thought for a moment, he'd examined so many things in his career but eventually something came to him.

"I once appraised an original, hand written, manuscript of The Tempest."

The young woman's eyes went wide. "Actually written by Shakespeare?

Jenkins nodded. "Yes. The man himself. One was somewhat in awe."

"That had to be worth a fortune."

He breathed out a laugh. "Oh, it was. Do you know the play was originally called The Triumph of Prospero?"

"Really?"

"Yes." Nodded the older man as he took another sip of bourbon. "It's a little known fact."

Suddenly the bartender passed them and Jenkins registered a look on his face, he didn't quite know how to describe it, almost as though he felt pity for Jenkins or maybe disgust. Then the bartender's eyes found the woman beside him with the same look and it all clicked into place for the white-haired man.

"Oh, you're one of them."

"One of what?"

"A prostitute."

The redhead looked saddened. "I prefer Escort, it sounds less like I came from the gutter."

"Please don't misunderstand, miss?" He furrowed his brow.

"Nikola."

"Yes, that isn't your real name but fine. Do not misunderstand me, Miss Nikola, I am not judging you or your chosen profession. I am just saying that you are wasting your time with me. I do not pay for sex."

"I didn't think you did." She told him softly then glanced around the bar quickly. "I can pick out all the men in here that want an Escort, the women too. You don't."

That just puzzled Jenkins even more. "Then why are you talking to me?"

"Because you looked sad, and then you turned out to be very interesting. You're not like the men I meet. What's your name?"

He couldn't really deny her his name even if she'd lied about her own.

"Jenkins."

"Well, Mister Jenkins, It was nice to meet you. I hope tomorrow is a better day at work for you."

With that Nikola – or whatever her real name was – rose from her seat and left him sat there at the bar with only what was left of his drink for company.

After a moment Jenkins downed his drink and headed for the elevator, then he remembered, it had gone eleven and room service had ended. His stomach growled. That was how he ended up walking back into the hotel thirty minutes later with a bag from the only open Chinese take out place he could find. The white-haired man went up to his room pleased there weren't any other people around and headed straight into his room on the sixth floor. He dumped the bag on the glass coffee table and took his suit jacket off, he rested it on the back of the black leather couch and then crashed down to take the weight off, he loosened his bow tie. It was late and he couldn't be bothered with a plate and chopsticks were already in the bag. Jenkins took a can of coke from the plastic bag and opened it with a satisfying pop, he was just about to take a swig when he heard a God awful bang and a whimper.

The suit clad man was up and out the hotel door before he'd even realised he'd moved, he glanced down the hall to his left, nothing but his right wasn't so empty. Jenkins looked down the hall just in time to see a man much younger than himself throw a clutch bag at young Nikola's face who was slumped on the floor.

"Some whore you are!" The door slammed shut after that and all was once again silent.

Nikola started to cry.

"Nikola? Nikola, are you alright?"

Jenkins crouched down beside her and instantly noticed the red mark on her cheek, the man had struck her. That knowledge made his blood boil. She seemed to be looking at something that wasn't there and for a moment he wondered how hard she'd been thrown out of the room.

Nikola spoke through her tears.

"Mister Jenkins?" Carefully he helped her to her feet. "I'm fine, thank you."

"No, you're not. Come on, I'll get you some water."

Cautiously the redhead followed the older man into his hotel room and let him lead her to sit on his couch, he made quick work of getting her a glass of water which he handed to her as he sat down next to her so he could see her marked face.

"I don't think that is going to bruise."

"Thank you." She took a sip of water. "You don't need to do this."

"Nonsense. No one has the right to treat you like that." Nikola smiled fondly at that. "May I ask what just happened?"

She took another sip of cool water. "He em, he... he can't get it up. He got angry and then he set me off."

Jenkins raised an eyebrow. "Set you off?"

She nodded. "Yeah, I em, I have this thing. I'm a Synesthete." Nikola looked as though she expected him to ask her what that was.

"And you still manage to do this job?"

"It was this or be a janitor who couldn't pay her electric bill."

"You're very brave, aren't you?" That hadn't been intended to be said aloud, it belonged in his head.

"I wouldn't say that. I'm not really." Suddenly her stomach growled and her blue eyes went wide with embarrassment. "Sorry."

"Help yourself."

The redhead just looked at him. "What? No, I couldn't. You've already been so nice to me, Mister Jenkins."

He looked at her with the most non-threatening expression he could muster. He felt as though this girl was truly alone in the world.

"To be honest you would be doing me a favour. I always order far too much. Anything left would just go to waste."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, Miss Nikola, I am quite sure. Tuck in."

Jenkins rose to his feet and refilled her water glass before rejoining her on the leather couch, when she made no attempt to move he started to unload the bag and passed her a bag of spring rolls. Jenkins was thankful when she took one and started to nibble on it.

"I don't know if you like squid but I'm somewhat addicted to the stuff. Like I said, help yourself."

"I do, and thank you. You really don't need to do this."

"Maybe not, but you're a young woman a man has just thrown into a wall and struck. You are also clearly hungry."

To him it was the only right thing to do, the noble thing, but to the young redhead it was the kindest thing anyone had ever done for her.

"You're the nicest man I've ever met. A real knight in shining armor." She smiled up at him and Jenkins breathed out a laugh.

"You have no idea."

"What?"

He sighed. "My name, It's Galahad Jenkins."

"Really?!" The redhead perked up and tucked her legs under herself once she'd kicked off her shoes.

Jenkins nodded. "My parents were historians, they specialised in Camelot."

"That's really cool. Suits you as well."

"Yes, well, it wasn't cool growing up. That's why I usually go by my last name."

The unlikely pair ate in a peaceful quietude for a few minutes, Nikola sipping at her water while Jenkins devoured his beloved squid until the white-haired man broke the silence.

"Are you going to tell me your real name? It's certainly not Nikola." She was quiet for a while as she finished her spring roll, shoulders tense. "You do not have to tell me."

Jenkins wouldn't force the redhead to give him her real name but that didn't stop him wanting to know.

"No, it's okay. Just, no one has ever asked my real name before."

"One would assume that is because others you speak to are clients and I am not." However, if any woman could tempt him into paying for sex it was this one in front of him.

"No, you're not, are you. You're kind. And my name is Cassandra." In hindsight maybe she shouldn't have given her real name out to a stranger so quickly.

"That suits you far batter than Nikola." He said truthfully.

"Do you know why I chose Nikola?" Jenkins shook his head. "Because of Nikola Tesla."

Well, isn't he full of surprises. "A unique choice, I like it."

"I thought so."

The two spoke of unimportant things until the conversation turned to literature, Cassandra was a marvel, he couldn't understand why a woman as incredibly intelligent as her chose to be a prostitute. Soon the food was gone despite Cassandra's protests that she couldn't keep eating so much of his meal and she actually started to relax.

"So where is home, Mister Jenkins?" She asked after a time.

"Oregon. Portland specifically."

"Must be nice to travel all over the place, I've never left the city."

"Why not? Surly you could go anywhere you choose?"

"I have, I have a health issue."

"You have a brain tumour."

Cassandra's eyes went wide. "How do you-"

"You said you are a Synesthete, and when I helped you up you seemed to be looking at something that wasn't there, you have hallucinations. All of your senses are criss-crossed, aren't they? Brain tumour is all it could really be."

"Most people don't even know what a Synesthete is let alone be able to figure out I have a tumour."

There was a hint of tears in her eyes and Jenkins felt guilty for having put them there.

"I'm not most people, Cassandra."

"Yeah," she smiled "I'm starting to see that, Mister Jenkins."

"Would you like some more water?" He asked as he gestured to her empty glass.

"Yes, please. Thank you."

The white-haired man rose to his feet and refilled the glass but when he set it back down on the coffee table she was asleep, cuddled into one of the white cushions. Most people would have probably woken her and told her to go home but not Jenkins; they'd already established he wasn't 'most people'. Instead, he went over to his bed and pulled the black comforter from it, gently he covered her over and then made quick work of tidying away the empty cartons. Once he was done Jenkins flopped down onto his bed fully clothed, he just managed to toe off his shoes before sleep too him as well; he'd been up since four the previous morning thanks to a screw up with his flight.

Jenkins did his best not to dream of blue eyes... but it didn't work.