"Well, that's a face I never thought I'd see again."

It wasn't an accusation, or even a sarcastic remark, just a statement. He really hadn't thought he'd see her again, either. She wasn't what you would call classically pretty. Her hair was short, sandy brown. She had a nice enough figure, but one might get verbally creamed for looking at it. She was intimidating to most even before she spoke, yet had a vulnerability to her that was endearing.

He snapped his fingers in remembrance. "You said the Beats were self-indulgent."

"And you said I was cracked."

"Nice to see you, Paris."

"Likewise. I'd hug you, but, honestly, I really don't like to."

"No offense taken."

"So, come in." She led him over to the couch and sat. He followed suit. "You're actually lucky to have caught me. Most people have already left."

"Why haven't you?" Jess asked.

"I'm avoiding going home as long as I can. Don't ask why. My therapist has heard years worth and from the looks of you, you don't have that kind of time."

"Never far off the mark, are you?"

"No, not really," she said matter-of-factly. "So, I'm guessing this isn't a social call. You didn't come all the way out here to talk about Jane Austen."

He played innocent. "I didn't? Or maybe I came by to regale you with new eating possibilites."

"As much as you broadened my salt and pepper dip horizons, maybe you could get to why you're here, Danny Zucco?"

He quirked his brows at her. "Eager to get back to something?"

"No, but honestly, the suspense is killing me."

"Ah, so how much longer before you beat it out of me and the suspense starts to kill me?"

"5.6 seconds."

"Didn't really have to think about that, did you?"

"3 seconds." A smile played on her lips. He randomly thought her lips would look more alluring with some gloss or something. Women always looked better to him when their lips have a little shine and smelled like one of those girly-scented glosses.

"You're staring at my lips. 2 seconds." She eyed him expectantly.

"Sorry. Uh, listen. This is going to sound weird."

"I figured it might."

"Rory is quitting Yale."

"What? I'd say you were, as the kids say these days, "pulling my leg" but--"

"What kids say that?"

"Jess." She had her "down to business" face on. "Fill me in."

He did his best of impressing on her what he'd been told, what Rory had said to him, leaving out the carnal part of their interaction. Other than that, he told her every detail. She listened thoughtfully, nodding here and there. It seemed like she was taking notes in the margins of her mind, and he thought, she probably was. When he finally finished, she was silent. Not shocked or stunned, but he could see her mind racing, could practically see the images floating in her eyes, taking it all in and turning it over.

Finally, she said, "Are we going to be using any spygear?"

"Why would we be using spygear?"

"Any reason we would?"

"We don't need to get into that." She said it quickly, too quickly.

"Let me guess. Bought some nifty toys and you're wanting an opportunity to give them a whack."

"Let's just say I have a paranoid side to me."

"Huh. Well, let's just hear what your plan is first."

"Well, I don't plan on taking out Greased Lightning for a spin and just grabbing her."

"That's your second 'Grease' reference in 15 minutes."

She shrugged with a guilty expression. "It was just on t.v."

"No, it wasn't," he guessed.

"Okay, I have it on DVD and I just watched it."

He pointed an accusatory finger at her. "You like musicals!"

"I do not!" she protested angrily.

"Yeah, I think you do." She huffed silently. He grinned. "You know, I can't believe you called me Danny Zucco."

"Really?"

"Oh yeah. I've always felt I was more like Kenickie."

She laughed genuinely, openly. He smirked accompanied it.

"So, we've got some work to do," she said.

"We do," he agreed.