Disclaimer: I do not own anything to do with SOA, it's production or casting. Only Grainne/Romana is my creation.

A/N: A huge thank-you to Harley Pendragon, for reviewing my last chapter, and ozlady80, who reviewed my first chapter. I think I'll be holding off another update until I have at least 5 reviews so if you want to read more you'll need to read and review.

If there was one thing I hated more than anything else, it was hangovers. I only really got them when I'd been drinking anything hops based. Lager, Beer, Julmust and Malta. Thinking about it, there was one thing I hated more than hangovers; and that was waking up in a place I didn't know with the mother of all hangovers, not to mention the sound of someone tapping away on a keyboard. I could kill whoever that was. A groan that I didn't intend to be heard slipped out rather on the loud side and the sound of the keyboard stopped, well paused before continuing. I probably looked a total mess about now. My hair would be a frizzy mass and what make-up I had worn would be smudged beyond recognition. My head felt like someone was ramming a sledgehammer into it it hurt that much – I was never drinking again. However, I said that and someone would offer me a shot to ease the pain and I'd take it – I know, I'm a terrible person. Crucify me why don't you?

"Hey...did I wake you?"

"Huh..yeah, but it's OK, I probably needed to wake up...where'd everyone go?"

"Home already...damn girl, you can sleep"

"Only when I've been drinking...rest of the time anything and everything can wake me up"

"So...hows your head this morning?"

"It's killing me, but I'll live. I think"

"Feel like a hangover cure?"

"What's in it?"

"Don't ask, it's easier that way...come on. Trust me on this one – took a lot of messing around and trials but I figured out a pretty good hangover cure"

"You're sweet Juice"

"Really? Mostly I just get treated like a moron. I don't think I've been called sweet before"

"How could anyone think you're a moron?"

Dear god...was I flirting with someone I met last night? I know we'd gotten on well, but I'd always determined that I would never let myself be like this. It usually only led to one place and I was not planning to go there ever again. Yeah, he was very sweet...kinda cute, in a boyish sorta way. He had a bit of a lost kid smile and didn't seem quiet with it all the time, but I guess that was part of his charm. Whatever he was pouring out didn't seem all that appetising. To be frank, I was convinced I'd rather have the hangover just looking at this 'cure'. It seemed to be very...lumpy and orange. I could smell the tomato from where I was and the surprising part was the shot of vodka he stuck in at the end. The smell was awful and made me want to heave. I'd like to find the porcelain god rather than drink it, but I was guessing that wasn't an option.

"What's in it?"

"Honestly? a bannana, a carrot, a tomato, a shot of vodka, a bit of tobasco and some milk"

"Won't the vodka curdle the milk?"

"Never thought of that – it works though"

"I'll trust you this time, but I swear, if I end up bringing this back up, I'll be aiming for you and not the toilet bowl"

"I understand entirely. Just try it. I'm gonna go back to my work"

Had I scared him? I knew I had a habit of doing that – scaring people that is. But maybe it came with the territory. My teachers had been scared of all the uncles that came to pick me up at the end of the day decked out in leathers and decorated with tatts, in high school, I'd been the kid of a biker and hung around with the metalheads, often beating them black and blue for a lack of anything else to do, I was known to always have some sort of weapon on me – but I was never caught with it, I cut the balls off one guy for bragging about sleeping with an underage girl, scarred another for life after making a couple of racist remarks around me, torched a couple of meth labs. I had a nasty reputation in New York, but it didn't appear to have travelled much out of the area which seemed to be to my benefit. I could only hope it stayed that way. The drink was vile, but it seemed to have helped a bit. The typing didn't seem to be too much of a bother after my moments of quiet. It still felt like someone was beating on my head, but it wasn't so bad any more. If anything it was easier to have some sort of noise than silence. Sliding off the seat and kicking shoes to one side, I crossed the room to the seat I'd been in and lay back down, one leg crossed over the top of the other. Memories from the night before came back in flashes – some conversation about naming colours, a very drunken pool game, sitting out on the bikes talking about the sky and idiot friends, smoking the evening away, drink and shot after drink and shot, slowly slipping deeper and deeper into some sweet, nameless oblivion that I never wanted to leave.

"What were we talking about last night?"

"I don't really remember if I'm honest...I don't intend to drink that much ever again. Aren't you meant to be working?"

"There's not really a lot to do – run a background check or two. It can wait"

"Why do you say that?"

"I have a choice – work, or talk to a highly attractive young woman. Which do you think I'm going to take?"

"Hmm...no real work commitment, easily distracted, maybe a little on the slow side. I wouldn't employ you if you were the last man on earth"

"Is that so? Well, I doubt you'd find anyone like me"

"Why's that then?"

"I'm more comfortable around guns and machines than people, actually I'm a bit of a social retard – always have been. I guess I'm a bit of a nerd deep down"

"You sound like a couple of people I know – they're not nerds. Just selective about who they like to chill with"

"Chill with? That's a new one. I don't get it"

"Picked it up from a girl I know – British chick, very fun. Chill with – what you're doing now. Chill out, relax...like what you're doing now. Sitting, talking, drink in hand"

"Really? Seems like something I should do more of"

"Mmm...now, what was it we were talking about last night? My memory ain't always too good after a heavy nights session"

"Well, as I recall, there was a conversation about colours, family and friends, other random shit...we never finished that pool game though"

"I don't know if I could bring myself to play a pool game right now"

"What else would you like to do?"

"I don't really know...I think I probably need something to distract me though...got a decent hacker program?"

"Maybe...why d'you ask?"

"I know one definite way to have fun...ever felt like hacking into the local station server and changing the news content?"

"You've done that?"

"Couple of times – but it requires top of the line programs to stop us getting caught out"

"What would you put in the news?"

"Something about Hale. I'm not really sure to be honest...any ideas?"

"I might have something...feel like showing me how to do it then?"

"You never tried it before?"

He smiled and shook his head. Needless to say, I was somewhat surprised. I'd been doing it for years. It was about all I could do though – if you asked me to make a spreadsheet, put a machine together, even run a virus scan or something like that you'd get a blank look. I just didn't know how to do anything other than hack certain types of servers. It was a source of annoyance to a number of people but they needed to get over themselves. Leaning over his shoulder, pointing out what he needed to do was frustrating me so much that towards the end I'd taken to sitting in his lap to better access the laptop. Half-sack would probably have a fit if he walked in and others would just assume that there was something going on (although, I can assure that there is nothing).

"Are you sure about this?"

"C'mon – it'll be entertaining"

"You, Jean Carlos Ortiz, are a terrible person"

"That I am...but it will be worth it to see his face when it comes up later"

His one hand was resting on the exposed flesh of my thigh, making me even more aware that I was still in last nights clothing. A slight look of embarrassment crossed both our faces and he pulled his hand away as I rose to walk away. I could feel the heat flushing me again – I knew that today people would be able to see the red trailing down my ears, temples, cheeks, neck and on to my shoulders. Why did I blush so easily? Maybe it was California doing it to me – when people weren't used to an environment it could have any range of effects on them. I could blame the weather but I wasn't entirely sure that it was just that...I mean, since when was I ever in this little clothing? Sure New York could be warm...but I was yet to find it as warm as here. That and these were strangers...they weren't the uncles and cousins I'd grown up with. Most of them had wiped my ass when I was too small to do it myself, and those who hadn't were around my age and I'd done the whole splashing around in the pool with them in the nude when we were little enough for it to not matter. They were like family so I was comfortable around them – things were predictable. That and I was usually packing heat or carrying a hunters knife, not that I needed to, so I knew I could defend myself. Here I was without defence and around someone I'd really only talked to last night. I didn't know what he was like. So I was pretty good at profiling someone, but it didn't help when I didn't have the information I needed. I didn't know what he was like and somehow I felt that just watching and listening wouldn't be enough with him.

"Look, if I upset you...sorry"

"No, it's not you – just, stuff going around my head..."

"Feel like talking about it?"

"It's nothing. I'm fine"

I could feel the tears welling and threatening to spill if I didn't leave. It wasn't just the whole being half naked in front of him...there was other shit that his touch had reminded me of. Shit I'd like to forget – shit my step-mother had had done to me by those I'd trusted the most. Sitting down and letting my hair obscure my face, I was aware of him hesitating...like he didn't know what to do. He was probably confused, he would be more used to the wasted whores who hung around just waiting for someone to approach them. Had he ever been around a sober woman other than the club members women? What was it Kip had said they were called? Old ladies...it seemed like such a strange expression to me, then again, I wasn't native so I was allowed to not understand.

"What did he do to you?"

"Who?"

"That bastard ex of yours as you call him. You said he left you for someone blonder...what weren't you telling me?"

"There's nothing to tell. It's nothing. Forget it"

"They may think I'm the club idiot, but I'm not as stupid as they say. You don't want to talk about it now, but it'll eat you up inside and when you're ready to talk I'll be here to listen"

As much as I wanted to deny it, I knew I couldn't keep it away forever. I'd sooner speak to Tig about it though and I think after last night everyone knows how I feel about him. In the end he pissed me off so much I cracked him over the head with the pool cue I was holding before ramming it into his balls and laughing at him rolling around in agony. Yeah, they'd seen a little of the real me last night and I think they had it that I was not the usual type of girl. I hadn't seen him yet, but I'm guessing his pride hurt more than anything else. He'd hate me now...or be even more determined to be the first to get me into bed for a roll. Not happening – at least not with him. There were one of two I'd think about if they propositioned me, but that was still a long way off. Someone had brought my bag in which was a good job because the silence was starting to suffocate me. The only breaker was Juice tapping away on the keyboard in his corner. Maybe he was a bit of a nerd, all hunched over and reading the same section of text over a couple of times to make sure he hadn't missed anything. Switching shoes for boots and walking out, I knew he hadn't looked up he was so caught up in his work; maybe I would have hired him if I had ever got the chance...provided I had kept women out of the room he was working in. That would never happen. I had a feeling that he would sooner die for the club than leave it. Loyalty, intelligence, some degree of patience...maybe a little slow in the social standing, but most who were skilled in the same areas as he weren't naturally social butterflies. I had a feeling he would be a steady ally though, he struck me as some what level headed...at least in comparison to a lot of the other club members. Left me wondering one thing; just what would he be like in bed? I so shouldn't go there, but I usually did. An unbreakable habit really.

Dropping the lock back in the bag and fixing my helmet, I took a moment to gather my thoughts – why the hell had I acted like that? Like some silly high school girl...all blushes and stupid comments. I'd never been like that – even in high school. This town was going to be the end of me, I knew it. If I wasn't insane before I came here then I was certainly headed to crazy town now. Why hadn't Half-sack told me what they were like? What effect a small town could have on a major city girl? Didn't he think it would bother me? Maybe it was because there was such a lack of choice that I had opted for the closest thing to attractive around here. But then there was his personality and those eyes – normally I didn't spend enough time with one guy to notice little things like the colour of their eyes, let alone their personality. I had to be going crazy – it was the only plausible option. I could hear Miss 'I'm such a perfect head cheerleader and spoilt rich girl' Madison Abbot and her opinion going around my head. He drove me crazy, I both loved and hated being around him, I couldn't keep him out of my head...I knew she'd be convinced it was a crush. But come on...I wasn't sixteen any more. I didn't get crushes...did I? God, this was so confusing.

"Romana? You left these behind"

Looking up, Juice was stood holding my gloves out to me. He seemed as embarrassed now as I had done when I realised where his hand had been. There was something else I could not help but find endearing about him. There was almost something attractive about his awkwardness – he wasn't joking when he said he was more comfortable with machines and guns than people. With a smile, I took the gloves from him and slipped them into my bag. Turning the engine on, I glanced over and it struck me that it looked like he was trying to figure out what to say next, or like he wanted to ask me something but wasn't sure how to say whatever it was.

"Juice..."

"Yeah?"

"You doin' anything later? Say about 6?"

"Not that I know of...why?"

"You feel like getting a drink some where? No alcohol this time, at least for me – I'd like to talk to you when I'm sober"

"Yeah...d'you want me to pick you up? I know a little bar not too far out if you want to go there"

"If you want to, come here"

Walking over some what dumbfounded (he probably hadn't been expecting me to ask him to grab a drink with me, bless – he seemed excited about it though), I took his arm and wrote down my cell number on his arm, having taken a pen from behind his ear. Handing the pen (and his arm) back to him I spotted the dying signs of a smile he was trying to suppress. Oh bless, he really was one of the sweetest people I'd ever met.

"Call me when you turn up...I live opposite Opie – he has really lovely kids"

"Yeah...they're great. See you at 6 then?"

"Six it is. Bye"

Holy shit did I just get myself a date? God, I really didn't know how so slow down, did I? Half-sack would lose it with me. I was so glad it was not his day to come round and see me. I couldn't wait to see his face when he found out. Still, could've been Tig...Kip should be grateful that I'd gone for someone closer to my age and way less likely to use me. At least I hadn't gone to bed with him before now. Could've done so last night...but instead I chose to play pool and crack Tig over the head with a cue. I don't know which could be classed as more fun...knocking someone out or waking up to a virtual stranger with the biggest hangover to date. I think I may have gone with the safer option. You never know what you could catch these days.

Wait...I got myself a date? I'd never been on one before. What did I do...what did I wear? Bloody hell, I needed help.