'Well, that wasn't so bad, was it?' Nigel asked as he pulled the motorbike up to a sheltered curb and cut the engine.

'No, I suppose not.' Alexis was still holding on to his chest, however. 'So we're not going any farther?'

'Not at the moment. 'fraid you're going to have to let go of me if I'm going to help you off, though.' Her grip slowly loosened, and then broke free, her hands sliding gently across the soft leather of his jacket. He dismounted, and turned to help her off. 'Alright, here you are, safe on solid ground… or, not so safe.' He grinned at the top of her head as she fell into his arms. 'It's a little weird the first time you climb off.'

'I feel as weak as a newborn calf!' Her voice was still shaky as she settled herself against his steady embrace.

'You okay?' he asked, holding her back to stop her from falling again.

'Yeah, I think so. Thanks.' Nigel opened his mouth to reply, but before he could, Alexis continued brusquely, 'So, where do we start?'

'Well, I suppose we could just wander around and look for local diners, bars, clubs. See if anyone's spotted her lately.' He shrugged and pocketed his keys, setting the alarm.

'Alright. Well, shall we go that way, then? I think I can see red neon from here.' She pointed to the left, and they proceeded down the street.

They walked close together, not speaking. Alexis was hunched slightly against the breeze, and slightly against the rogue eyes of any jeering onlookers. Nigel, again, took this opportunity to look her over. Not rudely (this time), but curiously. She was small, only about 5'5" in her heels, with a petite build – she had obviously not inherited her grandmother's height – and curvaceous features. Her clothing and posture said she could conquer the world if she wanted to, and yet her eyes said she would like nothing better than to be in the protective arms of someone she cared about – or someone who cared about her. The way she laughed and teased him told him she was interested, but the way she would back away told him… what? That she was afraid? It must have been some tragedy that had befallen this girl to turn her off men for fourteen years.

'Um… it's a strip club.' Alexis stated uncertainly, pulling her collar up and nodding towards the flashing neon sign. 'Needless to say, I've had minimal exposure to this type of place.'

'Minimal?' He smiled down at her, but she merely gave him a sarcastic, exasperated look and rolled her eyes. 'Okay, well, we'll just go in, ask the bartender if he's seen her, and if not then we'll go to the next place.'

'Sure. I-I suppose.' Her voice wavered slightly, and she had her arms folded across her (rather ample) chest.

'What's wrong?' Nigel asked, standing in front of her and running his hand down her arm, trying to get her hand in his.

'Just… I feel… weird going into a strip club. I know, it's silly, but… I just… I don't know. It's just. There's going to be guys jeering… and I may be dressed, but I still don't like to be-'

'Hey, hey, look. You're with me.' Affronted by her snort of laughter, he told her, 'you may scoff now, but just remember, height is quite intimidating.'

'I know that well enough. But drunk men'll get violent for lots of things, and they don't care if the other guy could kick their ass from here to Nunavut. Actually, that encourages them.'

'You're a pessimist, you know that?' he told her, still smiling.

'No, just cautious.' She smiled weakly up at him and released her hand into his. 'Alright then, tough guy, let's get this over with. But no bar fights. I know you English and you've earned quite an infamous reputation.'

They walked through the doors, and the pounding music assaulted them like a dozen cannons. The lights, too, flashed and blinked, giving the dancing girls a frozen in time look.

'C'mon. This way to the bar.' Nigel surrounded her shoulders to lead her over, so she wouldn't get pulled in by the crowd of leering men.

'How do men enjoy this?' she asked in amazement, trying in vain to block out the music and the sights around her. 'Some of these girls hardly look of age.'

'Man is a simple creature, luv, and can only think with one organ at a time.'

'Brain, stomach, or penis?'

'The order of intelligence. Clever.'

Reaching the bar, Nigel flagged down the bartender, an older man with thinning black hair. 'What can I get you and your… date?'

'Just some information. Ever seen this girl around before?' Nigel produced the picture he had printed out from the precinct, and watched as the bartender as he looked it over.

'Maybe. Why are you looking for her?'

'We want to help her,' Alexis offered quietly (considering her ears were already ringing from the noise around her).

Now looking the pair of them over, he replied, 'Yeah, I know her. Came in here about two weeks ago, begging for work. Said she'd do it all and then some. But we just couldn't take her.'

'Why not? Seems to me business is booming,' Nigel said, noting the full crowd despite it being so early.

'Did you even look at the picture? She may have been pretty, but she's too old for my stage. She tried to sell herself off at twenty two. But I can spot a thirty year old when I see one. And there's no cougars on my poles.'

'D'you know where else she might've gone to get a job around here?'

'With her ass? Look, if I don't hire 'em, I don't look after 'em. Unless I want them all to myself, if you know what I mean.' He paused, and looked Alexis over. 'Say, where'd you get her? She's not from around here. What agency'd you go to?'

'Thanks for your help.' Nigel said coolly, turning Alexis around to leave.

'Hey, I'll just find out from someone else. There's no use trying to keep her all to yourself. It's not realistic. You don't look like the kind of guy that'd be able to have a whore on payroll.'

Nigel felt her stiffen under his arm, and he walked a little quicker.

Outside, they crossed the street and walked, again in silence, to a diner a few buildings down.

'That guy was a jerk, you know.' Receiving no answer, he tried again. 'You want a coffee or something?' he asked her, sitting her in a corner booth.

She shook her head and started picking at her nails again, eyes cast down.

'Tea?' he offered again.

'… sure. One milk, two sugar.' She looked up briefly and smiled weakly.

Striding up to the counter, he found a nice-looking older woman waiting for orders.

'Hello there, what can I get you?' she asked, wiping a mug on her apron.

'Tea, two sugars one milk, and a coffee please.'

'Go ahead and sit down with your girl – she looks right frazzled – I'll bring 'em out in a minute.' She offered a grin and turned towards the kitchen.

'Thanks,' he called after her, but she either didn't hear, or didn't respond. Looking back at the table, though, he saw she was right. Alexis looked extremely tense, as if someone was going to come up behind her and scream boo. She just didn't know when. 'Are you alright?' he asked as he sat down, and he saw her jump.

'Alright? Of course, I'm fine. What gives you the impression I'm not?'

'Well, your napkin was in one piece when I left, and now it's in about fifteen. It doesn't take Freud to work out there's something wrong.'

She looked down, and indeed there were fifteen neatly torn pieces of No Name brand tissue. 'Maybe I am just a little tense,' she said, smiling weakly and picking, again, at her nails.

'Why do you do that?' Nigel asked, watching her delicate hands.

'What?'

'Pick at your nails like that.'

'Oh, well, I used to be a biter, but I quit cold turkey when I was sixteen – I wanted to be pretty, you know, with long nails, not some nail-biting nerd – so one day, I said, that's enough, and I never bit them again. Now, I just kind of pick at them because… I dunno. Just because it still feels a little odd to have talons instead of stubs. It's like, if you're so used to flipping your hair out of your face, but then you get it cut, it's still a natural reaction to flip.' She stopped, then, and, noticing that he was watching her intently, she averted her eyes out the window.

Their drinks arrived, and they sipped in silence. Nigel, unfamiliar with how to handle non-chatty women (him being used to Jordan by now), was, likewise, pensive. He drummed on the Styrofoam edge of his cup, glanced out the window, and, because she wasn't looking at him, he looked at her. His father, though distant, had once told him that a woman with baggage is not worth the work. His father may have been right enrolling him in the Navy (tough love and all that), but he was certainly not right about women. He saw Alexis's baggage as a puzzle that he wanted to solve. And Nigel never left a puzzle unsolved.