A compact yet vivacious blonde with lips that pouted and hips that cocked slid herself into the seat behind Mohinder. He couldn't help but crank up the charm, just a little. He turned around to take her in completely, smiling blindingly.
For all her confident looks, when her voice came it was teasingly soft, almost timid. Mohinder turned the wheel and shifted before turning around completely. A girl that pretty just didn't come from New York, but he didn't know how to ask without it sounding like a cheap pick-up line. And hell, maybe it was.
They drove mostly in silence, which Mohinder thought was sad indeed. He did love to strike hear himself speak /strike hold a conversation, especially with beautiful strangers.
Suddenly, the woman in the backseat drew herself up and seemed, for all the world, like a new person. Mohinder blinked, trying to keep his eyes on the road. A cold smirk played at the edge of those plump lips, and Mohinder was reminded of the man he had recently met.
Zane Taylor. He was an odd fellow. One moment he would be timid, even twitchy as this woman had begun, but oftentimes, when the other man didn't think Mohinder could see… well, he looked downright mischievous. The Indian idly wondered what this could mean.
"Turn around," the woman said, voice completely distorted. It held no nuance of hesitation or softness—it was dark and demanding and held an air of the utmost confidence, as did her upturned chin.
Mohinder started. "Excuse me?" he asked, voice quivering just the slightest bit.
"I said," she barked. "Turn around."
Mohinder gulped, hoping the woman wasn't some sort of schizophrenic, and complied. Schizophrenic? Maybe that was why… He shouldn't think such things about his new friend, but the thoughts came unbidden despite this, flooding his mind's eye with every action Zane had ever taken to contradict himself—the list was too long to tabulate.
"No," the voice behind him whimpered. It was a barely audible sound, one he wasn't sure he had truly heard. "Shut up, Niki," said the confident voice, much louder than the first. Mohinder was starting to get nervous, beads of sweat gathering at his hairline.
"Are you alright, miss?" he asked as pleasantly as he could manage, avoiding even indirect eye-contact through the mirror. The mirror… Mohinder realized quite suddenly that every time this exotic woman saw her own reflection she would change, appearing meek one moment, strong and unwieldy the next.
"Pull over," the quieter voice cried suddenly, note of panic coloring her tone. Mohinder did so, quickly, as they edged around the park.
The clacking of heels on pavement could be heard, followed by a soft coughing sound.
Mohinder sighed heavily, moving to get out and shut the backdoor when he realized the woman was not going to return. Were there any paying customers in the whole city?