A/N: Hello, hello! I hope everyone is fine. I, for one, am horrendously sick, but since my story is pre-written, I'm still able to post. So, there's always that.
Disclaimer: Twilight and all of its characters belong to Stephenie Meyer
She looks me up and down for a while, so I do the same. She's petite and curvy and has long wavy hair that gathers at the crown of her head in a thick ponytail. She's covered in black leather, and the side of her neck is marred by a gruesome scar that gleams in the dying light.
At first sight, empty handed, she'd seem harmless if it weren't for that strange aura I feel around her. And the fact that she effortlessly, carelessly shooed away three people who all have at least a foot on her.
But I've been here long enough to be able to spot the signs. The way she carries herself is a dead giveaway. Leaning forward on the balls of her feet, hands hovering around her belt… She's not poised to fight – she knows I'm about as dangerous as a cornered rabbit – but her body betrays her. She's armed, all right. She just doesn't want to reveal with what and in what numbers.
And I know that another, more experienced eye could see, in her stance, what she carries and how she uses it. Just as she knows it's visible, and doesn't bother to hide it.
Like strays, we're sizing each other up.
"Tori's right. You are a pretty one."
"Thanks."
Pokerface. Vital.
"You know, James would've cut up that sweet face, had I not interrupted. He likes his boys raw, and he's gonna be pissed I interrupted his fun."
I know she wants something. I don't know what.
But miracles don't go unpaid for.
"Thanks."
"I think I'm gonna have to get something out of this."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah."
"Like what?"
"I don't know. You could buy something off of me, maybe. A blade, perhaps."
None of this is a question. She's letting me know what happens next.
"I don't have money."
"Yes you do. Time is money, isn't it?"
I lose. I let my confusion show on my face.
She whips something out of her black belt and it whizzes toward me. I catch it reflexively. It's a small, wooded-handled knife.
"This is worth time. Favors. You're with me now, Eddie, and I'll get you safely around town. But don't forget how you started."
She sees the look on my face and sighs.
"You have no idea what to make of that, do you?"
Embarrassed, I shake my head.
"I swear, Momma's boys…"
A sharp whistle from between her teeth, and a blonde shadow drops from the nearest roof.
"Jazz, show the kid how you handle a blade."
Jazz smirks at me, and she walks away.
What? No!
"Wait."
She turns, expectant.
"Who the fuck are you?"
"I'm a very complex being, Edward."
Great. I love cryptic.
I roll my eyes.
"What's your name?"
"Nemo."
"Nemo? Like the fish?"
She scoffs, teeth gleaming white in the darkness.
"Yeah. Like the fish."
"No, come on. Seriously, what's your name?"
"You can call me Nemo."
A/N: Welp, that was anticlimactic. Don't fret, I know where I'm going. Meanwhile, I would appreciate a review or two, 'cause I kinda feel like I'm just shouting out into emptiness right now...
Anyway, stay safe!