Deirdra couldn't stop replaying her conversation with Alister over and over in her mind as she made her way down Lowe St. There was something 'off' about it -and him, but she couldn't quite put her finger on it. Maybe it was the argument that had taken place in the background. Maybe it was the way he had hung up before she could ask questions. Or maybe it was the meeting place itsslef. Why would Alister want to meet at an office building? Maybe he worked there...but he'd never struck her as a future yuppie. And why did he want to meet so late at night? Everything would be locked up by then anyway. Everyone gone home. Or maybe that was the idea. She shuddered, stopping about 20 feet from the main entrance of the building. Surely he couldn't be planning on acting out some revenge fantasy after all this time, could he? As she took in the deserted streets and darkened windows for the first time, she found herself wishing she were anywhere but here.
Suddenly she heard the roar of an approaching motorcycle. A FASTLY approaching motorcycle. She stumbled backwards, shielding her eyes from the harsh light, which was as blinding as the sound was deafening. The bike screeched to a halt a few feet from where she stood and the rider cut the engine. She could have sworn she caught a whiff of burning rubber wafting up from the pavement. The rider dismounted with ease and with one stride, was standing right in front of her. Deirdra's brain said "run", but her legs didn't obey. The motorcyclist reached up and pulled off his helmet, revealing thick red hair cut into a bob, a sharp-featured face, and cold grey eyes. Alister.