I will most definitely finish these intros today ;)

New Character #14: Danielle

"God damn it. Sorry, Danny."

Danielle frowned at her cousin's stressed voice coming through the speaker on her phone.

"Am I calling at a bad time?" she asked. Marcus, her cousin (slash quasi-brother), sighed.

"No, not really. I just managed to smash a plate. Again."

"Remind me to buy you plastic plates for your birthday; sounds like you could need them every time a girl walks out on you."

"Ha ha, very funny", Marcus replied. She could hear the sound of a door being closed and guessed he had moved from the kitchen to the living room in his apartment.

"So", he said, a squeaking signalling that he had sat down in his old couch, "what can I do for you, Danny?"

"I'm not a customer, Mark", Danielle pointed out. "Just because of that I call you in the middle of the day it doesn't mean I need something from you."

"I'm guessing you do, though", Marcus said. "Come on, tell me; what is it you need from your cousin up in cold Canada to brighten your day in sunny, warm New York City?"

Danielle grimaced up at the clear sky. Sure, it was sunny, but it was definitely not warm. Her cheeks had turned bright red after a brisk walk from her hotel to the nearest library.

"Alright then", she sighed. "I was thinking of staying here for a bit longer, to do some more research."

"Sure. Why am I the first to know?"

"Because you need to convince my dad that I'm not dead or that I haven't run away from home or any of the other strange scenarios that he might come up with."

Marcus was silent for a while before he replied.

"Sounds like a challenge, but sure", he said. "May I ask what's so interesting?"

"Nothing special", Danielle replied, while tightening the grip on the old, leather-bound book she was holding in her right hand. There was no need to worry Marcus about her findings, or the fact that they were as far from psychology-studies as they could possibly be. No matter how calm or nonchalant he could act this would send him over the edge.

"Well, whatever", he said. "I promise to talk to him during family dinner tomorrow night, but you'll have to call him as well. It almost sounds like you're evading him."

"Thanks, Mark", Danielle said, ignoring the point of her evading her father. "I owe you."

"Yep, you do", Marcus replied. "Enjoy New York now, Danny. Go visit the White House."

"That's in Washington DC", Danielle pointed out.

"Whatever."

Danielle smiled as she hung up and put her phone back in her pocket, before hurrying across the street. Marcus always made her happy. He was seven years her age, but they had grown up next to one another and after Danielle's mum had passed away in a car accident when she was four Marcus' parents had stepped in and assisted her dad. Neither she or Marcus had any other siblings, meaning they saw one another as that instead. They could talk about anything.

Well, almost anything. She looked down at the book she had found at the library. Thick, with yellowing leaves and an old binding. The librarian had not even recognized it and said that it had probably been placed there as a prank, and that Danielle was free to keep it if she wanted to. Which she definitely did.

Now she needed somewhere to sit and read it properly, but it had to be private. Her hotel room felt too insecure as it was still early in the morning and some cleaner might show up while she was reading. No, she needed to take this somewhere else. A place where she could snuggle up in a corner without anyone noticing her.

A flyer posted on a light post caught her eye and she stopped to read it.

Need to get warm?

We serve the best tea, coffee,

and hot chocolate on Manhattan.

The Enchanted Forest Café

89 Wooster Street, New York

Danielle hesitated for only a moment before pulling out her phone and typing in the address on the GPS-app. A non-commercial café might be the solution to her problem.

"Taxi!" she called and waved at one of the yellow cars passing by when she realized that the café was too far away for a walk. The cabdriver nodded at her as she sat down in the backseat.

"Where to, ma'am?" he asked. She could not help but notice that his accent sounded slightly British.

"89 Wooster Street", Danielle replied. The driver nodded and steered out into the traffic again. Danielle stared out at the houses passing by while clutching the book to her, completely oblivious to the fact that the cabdriver had not turned on the taximeter or the fact that the steering wheel was moving on its own.