Hey people. C: Sorry it's been a while. I didn't intend to leave it this long to update. I've had a busy past week though, in all honesty. I've been having a little trouble writing this chapter out, and figuring out how to get it up here as a new chapter. xD I know it's boring at the moment, but I know where I want to go with the story in the future. Sorry for any spelling mistakes or punctuation errors, I've managed to cut my fingernail, yes my fingernail, down the middle so I'm wearing a plaster on my left pointer finger. You can see why I'd find it tricky. A big, bulky plaster whilst typing. Oh boy! Anyway, I'm rambling now. So I hope you like it and thanks for the positive reviews on the first chapter, I was so nervous!

It is a sunny day in June and I am standing at the airport, luggage in hand. I have an hour until my plane is due, and my suitcase is starting to feel heavy along with the rucksack on my shoulders. I decide to sit at the bar nearby.

"I'll have a gin and tonic, please." I nod to the bartender, who nods back and gets to it. I pass him some money and thank him when the drink arrives. The ice in it is soothing, the clear taste and twist of lemon and lime refreshes me. I close my eyes and sigh as I sip.

I am interrupted about ten minutes later.

"Miss?" I jolt a little, opening my eyes and looking at the bartender who just called on me. "So sorry to startle you, but the gentleman over there has bought you a drink."

I look at the pink drink on the counter. It is small, a cocktail most likely. I turn to the man on the other side of the bar, lifting the drink slightly in a thanks before drinking. It is sweet, tangy. It is enjoyable, but not what I would usually drink.

My plane soon arrives. I am on it with ten minutes to spare. No fuss, luggage in the luggage hold, my rucksack beside me. The seats next to me are free. I am sat by the window; my bag is in the middle seat with my firm grip on it. I lay back, lazily watching the clouds go by. It's soothing. The two drinks have me a little buzzed, but not enough to be drunk.

A little while later I am feeling more alert, but I haven't moved from my lazed position. I hear shuffling and moving and the odd "excuse me" a few rows ahead of me, but I take no notice since it's probably somebody needing the bathroom.

"Excuse me ma'am." I hear the voice a lot clearer now. I turn and see the man who bought me the drink at the bar. "May I take this end seat? I've noticed that nobody is sitting here and I'm having a hard time sitting in between those overweight people up there." He cringes slightly, whispering when saying the word 'overweight'.

I take pity on him. "Of course, sit yourself down." I say, making sure my backpack isn't taking up more room than I intended it to. He happily sits, thanking me and looking noticeably relieved. I smile slightly, quite happy to have done something nice for someone. After all, I am an FBI agent. I must be polite to people unless they are criminals. Or Hannibal..

My thoughts of Hannibal are disturbed when the man talks. "My name is James Morton, by the way." He sticks his hand out towards me and I take it, using my signature firm FBI grip.

"Clarice. Clarice Starling." I manage to stammer out, shaking his hand. "Thanks for the drink by the way."

"You're welcome, Miss Starling. That's a wonderful name, by the way. Starling." He muses. I smile in a thankful manner. I thought that as soon as he heard my name, he would know who I am. I have been mentioned in newspapers a few times and so a lot of people know my name. James Morton however, does not seem to recognise the name. This relieves me. I can be somebody else around this man. Hell, I'll never see him again. I think I'll have some fun.

"Call me Clarice, please." I smile. "So what do you do James?"

He doesn't seem to mind that I've called him by his first name without him saying so first. "Well, Clarice," he pauses saying my name. Almost like he's savouring the moment. "I'm a journalist for a travel magazine. I'm being sent out to Buenos Aires to see what the best tourist destination spots are. I need to write about the areas which I find attract the most tourism, tell people what's there, what there is to do. Take some pictures."

I nod, this is all very interesting. I haven't met a journalist that isn't all about FBI happenings before. "I bet being a journalist is great fun, if you like what you're writing about."

James nods in agreement. "That is definitely true. So Clarice, what do you do?"

Time to make something up. I smile. "Well, I am part of a big business company. I am also going to Buenos Aires to try and get the biggest, best hotels to join up with our company. It's a large hotel and tourist aimed company which basically works on what the tourists want, how we can make it better."

He seems to be impressed by this. Hell, I'm even impressed by how well I can lie. I always was good at fairy stories. We have a couple of drinks and chat for most of the journey, but he gets tired and has a nap after a while. Meanwhile, I get back to my cloud watching, wondering about James Morton.

So there we go. I know, it's not much and I apologise for that. I always find it more difficult to start a story. But like I said, I have some ideas and plans for when it gets going. :) So what do you think of James? What do you make of him so far? I have several ideas for him. xD So please leave me some reviews. If there's anything I can improve please tell me in a kind and constructive manner. Until next time. :)