It's strange - how the smallest little decisions can alter your entire life

It all started with Phil.

Had he decided not to go dirt bike racing along the valley coast with a couple of pals, he may never have torn his labrum that day. He may still have had a promising career in the minor league. But his premature retirement forced him into a coaching gig in Phoenix, leaving Bella to finish up her high school years under the hot Arizona sun.

Now she was 19, with her future stretched out before her.

"University of Arizona is great," Renee smiles. The corners of her eyes crinkle in a way that accentuates her graceful aging.

"Maybe," Bella says, drawing the navy blue pamphlet closer. They were sitting in the kitchen, stacks of University folders and pamphlets stretched out before them. A dozen different decisions. A dozen different lives. "Dad was thinking UDub. He wants me closer."

"Tuscon is close enough," Renee replies. "And there is nothing stopping him from visiting."

Bella glances at Phil, currently preoccupied with making a sandwich. "Yeah, maybe." She says.

"Besides, Arizona has a lot of great programs. A bunch to choose from."

"Dartmouth has a stronger writing program."

"East coast?" Dismay laced her tone. "Bella, honey, I love you. But you'll be freezing for most of the year. Plus, you don't have any practice on those icy roads. Take it for me, and you've got my clumsiness, you're going to find yourself with a broken leg your first semester. And where will we be? An 8 hour airplane ride away."

"Longer if you consider connections." Phil says walking over, sandwich in hand. "No direct flights."

"I think I'll survive."

"Of course you will, honey." Renee grabs another pamphlet. "Arizona State? Their film and arts program is good. And I hear the food scene is to die for."

"Not really my thing, Mom." Bella says, eyeing the pile that consumed their dining table. A growing headache starts throbbing behind her temples.

"You could always take a gap year," her Mom says, placing a comforting hand atop Bella's. "No one says you have to go immediately."

"And do what?" Bella had worked at a fast-food joint throughout high school, she didn't imagine she would get much out of another year of that.

"What about Italy?" Phil says in between bites. "You got them photos and posters on your wall. Why don't you go there?"

"Italy?"

"Italy!?"

"Sure," Phil shrugs. "Sounds like you don't even know what you want to do. Take a year. Travel. Figure out life."

It's all because of Phil really.

It's how Bella stayed in Arizona.

It's how Bella found herself on a plane to Italy.

—

It's also how Bella found herself stranded with no help in sight.

—

Bella had always found herself inexplicably drawn to Italy. Ever since she was young, she'd devour any books, movies, and TV shows centered around it.

The real thing lived up to it all. She landed in Rome and had made her way from province to province. She was currently touring through Tuscany on the way to Florence. Its rich mountains and valleys made for a lovely scenic view.

She was a few hundred miles away from the nearest city when her rental car blew a puff of gray smoke from the hood.

She let out a small curse under her breath as the car sputtered to a stop on the side of the winding road.

Taking a deep breath, she grabbed her bag and pulled out the pamphlet for the road assistance number provided by the rental company. She dialed it, and waited as the tell-tale beeps connected her to another human.

"Buon pomerig—, assistenza stradale. Sono Gina, come —sso —utarla?" Came the rapid spitfire of italian through her phone's cheap speakers. Her voice interrupted by incomprehensible static.

"H-hello? Parla inglese?" Bella parsed out.

"Che cosa ha —etto? Non —co a se—-," said the annoyed female operator. Static overcame the line.

"Inglese, um, por favor." Bella massaged her temples. "Mia car… it's broken. I could really use some help. I'm not sure exactly where—"

The dial tone rang out.

Pulling her cell back, Bella was greeted by a blank screen.

Frustrated, she stepped out of the car, the warmth of the sun beating down on her. Her only company was the endless stretch of road ahead.

After a moment of hesitation, she grabbed her bag and locked the car. She didn't have much in the way of a plan. She figured she'd walk to the next closest town or rest stop and plead her case. Maybe she'd even get a glass of wine out of it.

So, she started walking. The early afternoon sun was soaring high above Tuscan hills, casting beautiful beams of light across the landscape. There was a strange comfort here, surrounded by the beauty of the rolling hills and golden fields. She could almost pretend she wasn't stranded.

The Tuscan scenery might have looked beautiful from the car, but on foot, they were steep and unforgiving. Her sandals weren't exactly made for long treks, and after just a few minutes, she could feel the strain in her calves.

As she climbed a small hill, she caught the sound of an engine rumbling in the distance. She turned to see an old, dusty truck approaching her from behind.

It came to a rolling stop beside her. An elderly, sun-kissed man poked his head out of the window. "Cosa stai facendo? Hai bisogno di aiuto? Era la tua macchina quella lì dietro?"

He sounded friendly enough, though Bella didn't know exactly what he said. Her rudimentary italian only partially aided her, unhelped by the man's rapid tongue.

"My car. Mia auto?" She mimic'd a small explosion.

"Ah, ok, ok." He smiled warmly, understanding her gesture. He stepped out of the truck, his movements slow but steady, and gestured for Bella to follow him to the back.

"Posso aiutarti," he said as they approached the rear of his truck. "I will help." The man opened the truck's tailgate and rummaged around for a moment before pulling out a toolbox.

He motioned her forward, back in the direction of her car.

As they walked, Bella tried to make small talk. "Grazie… thank you."

"It's not a problem," he reassured. His gait vaguely resembled that of a penguin, shifting his weight with each step he took. "Where you going?"

"I'm on my way to Florence. Firenze?"

"Eugh," The man waved her off. "Firenze no good. Too crowded. Too much turista."

Bella smiled politely, though she was slightly taken aback by his dismissive tone. "Really? I've always heard it's beautiful." The wine scene was apparently unlike anything in the world.

The man shrugged, his wrinkled face breaking into a grin. "It is... but too many people. Too much noise. You want to see real Italy? You go to small towns."

They reached her car, and the man immediately pulled up the hood to inspect underneath it. He muttered something under his breath in Italian, shaking his head as he examined the engine. Bella stood by, fidgeting with the edge of her sleeve.

After a few minutes, he looked up and wiped his hands on a rag. "La guarnizione dell'auto è rotta," he said, frowning. "I cannot fix here. But I take you. My nephew has garage, in Volterra."

"Volterra? Is it far?" she asked. She had never heard of it. The danger of a strange man inviting her to travel to a remote town rang clear in her mind.

He shrugged as he packed up his tool box. "Not too far. Maybe... venti minuti?"

Bella hesitated for a second, considering her options. Stranded in the middle of the Tuscan countryside, she didn't have many. "Okay," she said, offering him a smile. "Thank you, really."

He nodded and waved her toward his truck. "Come. We go to Volterra. You like it, I promise."

—

They soon drove away with her rental securely hitched to the back of the man's truck. He introduced himself as Silvio. He had lived most of his life all around Italy, but spent his last few years settling into a quieter life, spending his days with his partner.

Silvio smiled, his eyes focused on the road ahead. They were nearing the starting edge of a town— Volterra. "I have traveled for years. When you live in many places, you learn to find your way anywhere. But here… this place," he gestured to the landscape with a small nod, "it feels like home now. I moved here for the peace." and after a beat, "and my Lorena."

Bella nodded, understanding the appeal. The serenity of the Italian countryside had a certain allure. "It must be nice, having a place that feels like home," she said softly.

As they entered the narrow, cobbled streets of Volterra, the town's medieval charm immediately captivated her. Ancient stone buildings lined the roads, their facades weathered dark by time yet still stood proudly. The streets seemed to wind endlessly, like a maze of history and secrets, with the occasional small piazza opening up into a gathering place where locals mingled under the shade of café umbrellas. The rumble of the truck's motor blended into the faint hum of idyllic life around them.

Silvio slowed the truck as they neared the center of town, where an imposing fortress overlooked the landscape from its perch on a hill. "It's a peaceful place, but also full of many stories." he said, catching Bella's gaze.

Bella smiled, taking in the surroundings. "It feels like I'm walking through history," she murmured.

They pulled into a small square, and Silvio parked the truck in front of a garage, where a mechanic was already waiting.

"Luca!" Silvio calls out, shrugging his small frame out of the door and hobbled up to the younger man. "Smetti di lavorare su quello. Mettilo giù, mettilo giù. Vieni, vieni. Incontra Bella."

They barely had time to shake hands before SIlvio pulled Luca to look under the hood of her truck.

Next to the garage was an attached housing unit, where a stout woman came out with a toddler attached on her hip. She introduced herself as Lorena, Silvio's partner. The toddler was Matteo, Luca's son.

"Don't mind them," Lorena jutted her chin forward, toward the men. "They'll be at that for a while. Come, let's sit. I have some coffee inside if you'd like."

Lorena led her into the attached house. The air was filled with the scent of fresh bread and roasting coffee. Soft sunlight filtered through the gaps between the window frame, casting long, uneven shadows on the cobblestones below. As they sat at a small wooden table, Lorena poured two cups of coffee, placing one in front of Bella. She placed the toddler into a high chair beside them.

"Your home is beautiful," Bella said softly, taking a sip. It wasn't just banal platitudes. The interior was just as scenic as the rest of the town.

Lorena smiled. "Grazie. It's been in my family for generations."

Bella took in the surroundings, her gaze lingering on the stone walls and wooden beams that framed the room, scratches and marks scuffed nearly every surface. The stone walls kept the rooms cool, and the kitchen was waif with aromas of coffee and strung-up herbs. It was a simple space, but filled with warmth and charm.

"It has a lot of character," Bella remarked, her voice appreciative. "There's something about places like this... like they hold stories in their walls."

Lorena nodded thoughtfully, placing her cup down. "That's true. Volterra is full of stories. You can feel the history here, in the stones, in the streets, even in the air. It's a quiet place, but it carries a weight, like it's always watching, always remembering."

They chatted for a couple of hours. About her travels, about her family, about her plans for the future. Lorena spoke next, about her family, the town, and how she had never truly left Volterra.

"My roots are here," Lorena said softly. "I've seen the world change around me, but this place… it remains the same, a constant in my life."

Lorena was the English instructor at the nearby primary school. She had spent a few years studying to get her English certification. After finishing, Lorena had dreams of leaving Volterra for good. She had imagined herself in bustling cities, studying art history or perhaps working in a museum. But family obligations kept her tethered to the town. Her father fell ill around that time, and she found herself needing to stay close to help care for her mother. The years passed, and gradually, her grand plans were replaced with the comforting rhythm of life.

She'd met Silvio when he had passed through town, exploring the Tuscan countryside as part of a photography project. He had been captivated by the charm of Volterra, stopping for a week that turned into a month, into a year, into a lifetime.

Bella listened intently, admiring the deep connection Lorena had with her home. There was something comforting about the idea of belonging so completely to a place. It was so unlike her own upbringing, moving from place to place, chasing after Renee's dreams alongside her. Bella never felt like she truly belonged anywhere. Always the outsider.

As the conversation continued, the sun began to lower, casting a warm glow through the kitchen windows, painting the stone walls with golden light.

"You must have seen so many people come and go," Bella mused, swirling the last bit of coffee in her cup. "Do you ever wonder what it would be like to leave, even for a little while?"

"Never, Silvio has done enough traveling for the both of us." Lorena dismissed with a wave of her hand. "But how about you? What travels await you next?"

"Florence," Bella nodded, tucking her arms under her chest as she lent forward. "And then Venice and Milan. And whatever lies in between."

"You're not staying here?" Lorena asked with a tilt of her head. "No, no, that cannot be. You must stay. We are having a festival in town tomorrow. You cannot miss it."

"Tomorrow?"
"It is the highlight of the year. There will be music, dancing, and all the food you can imagine. The whole town comes together." Lorena reached out to squeeze Bella's hand. "And who knows, maybe you'll find something here that makes you want to stay a little longer."

Their conversation was momentarily interrupted by the sound of footsteps approaching the doorway.

Silvio entered, a warm grin on his oil-stained face. A makeshift tool kit was wrapped around his hips. "Signorina Bella, buone notizie. We fix car."

"Era ora!" Lorena exclaimed, reaching out to Silvio with a cotton towel in her hands. She began delicately wiping dirt and soot off his calloused hands. Luca stepped in after and gave Bella a sharp nod before scooping his son and taking the toddler upstairs.

"Thank you, Silvio. Really, I cannot thank you enough. Please tell me how much I owe you."

Silvio waved her off. "No, no, Signorina Bella. You will not pay. It was nothing."

"But it is too late to go out now, Bella." Lorena interjected. The sun had fully set beyond the horizon, the sky rapidly becoming dark.

"It's fine." Bella could still make great time even with the darkened streets.

"Stay here tonight," Lorena insisted. "It's too dangerous to be out alone at this hour."

"I don't want to impose any more than I already have." Bella said. She didn't think it was appropriate to take advantage of all their help. "I'd feel too bad."

"It is not an imposition," Lorena reassured. "Besides, you must stay and see the festivities tomorrow. You will not regret it."

Bella hesitated, her thoughts running a mile a minute.

"How about un compromesso? A compromise! We are very good friends with the local hostel owner. We get you a good rate. Friends e Family discount," Silvio laughed jovially.

"Si, Si, Attilio Petrucci! We know him very well." Lorena nodded.

Luckily, Bella hadn't had any set lodging accommodations for when she got to Florence, intending to look once she got there.

Lorena and Silvio walked her down to the local hostel. Mr. Petrucci was a tall, stick-thin, balding man with a thick set of bifocals resting on the ridge of his nose. After speaking with him in Italian, they said their goodbyes to Bella, with a promise of seeing her for breakfast tomorrow. Mr. Petrucci led Bella to a ground floor room and handed her a brass key and wished her a good night.

Before Bella settled down in bed, she pulled out her laptop and sent a quick email to Charlie and Renee, letting them know of her car troubles and her unexpected stay in Volterra. She told them there was nothing to worry about. She'd even attached a MapQuest link to the hostel for added measure. With a stifled yawn, Bella hit send and tucked herself into the cool linen sheets.

—-

The next day, the town was splashed with red. Banners hung from strings stretched across the grand pavilion. Streamers blew through the air from open windows and children ran through the cobblestone streets with red balloons in hand.

Up ahead, a group of masked and hooded figures marched through the street, lobbing towards a large gothic cathedral. Thunderous pounding from the drummers kept everyone in-step. The lead carried a large golden cross, embossed with gleaming red jewels. Rhythmic chanting poured out, a haunting melody that echoed off the towering stone walls.

"Volterra never forgets," Lorena had told her over breakfast. "Every year we remember St. Marcus - è magnifico."

It turned out that the magnificent thing was Saint Marcus running the vampires out of Volterra.

"We wear red," Silvio said, pointing to his red sleeves. "To honor those who lost their lives to the evil."

Despite the evil originating from mythology, not a single person she encountered thought anything less of it. In fact, everywhere she went, it seemed that many held a personal reason to keep the celebration going.

"My great-great-grandfather fell to the vampires." Luca said as his wife rocked the teething toddler on her knee. "I celebrate every year. And every year I thank St. Marcus and God for all they have done for us - E che Dio abbia pietà delle nostre anime."

"Blood used to bathe the streets of old Volterra," Mr. Petrucci had told her that morning. "The church thought the city lost - our bishop had fled! And where did that leave us? Open to attack by Firenze forces. The Medici's ruled over us with an iron fist. They taxed us and stole what little of our crops we harvested. What are we to do with no men, no power, and no money? Volterra itself was dying.

But by God's grace, Saint Marcus marched down these very streets and purged it of those who sought to destroy this great city - Il vampiro."

"Do you think they actually existed? Vampires?" Bella asked.

Lorena smiled. "It may only be a folktale, but history doesn't lie. After Saint Marcus' march, Volterra rose from the ashes - prosperous once more. And truly, we celebrate that victory for we are all still standing here today."

Bella had enjoyed the festivities and was surprised to find that Volterra had more to offer than she initially thought.

"It is the piazza that is the jewel of our pride. It is the oldest in the country - even the Palazzo Eecchio in Firenze was inspired by it! Go, and climb to the top of the clocktower, see, you will get the most beautiful view of Volterra in its entirety. And when you go up, you shall see the Palazzo Pretorio and tower del Porcellino, the little pig. It is a beauty unmatched. They offer tours, go and see for yourself." Silvio spoke rapidly. His accent thickened, slurring and stuttering over some words in his rush.

"If it were just a nice house with nice decorations, I wouldn't care either." Lorena said. "But it truly is magnificent. And when you've had your fill of history, you must come back for dinner. We will all go out together. Wild boar, truffle pasta, and the best olive oil in the region." Lorena's eyes lit up at the mention of food.

With a promise to meet back at the town square for dinner, Bella went set off in the direction of the clock tower.

Volterra was an old, medieval town well over a few centuries old, beset on all sides by large, impressive walls of Etruscan origins. The original entrances were some the largest and oldest she'd ever seen. The jambs were made out of large blocks of sandstone and the archway stretched high above, casting a shadow over the cobbled streets beneath. As Bella passed through the Porta all'Arco, she could feel the weight of the centuries in the air, the quiet resilience of a place that had seen so much and still stood strong. The thought stirred something deep inside her—an urge to pause, to linger in a place that didn't demand anything from her.

The closer she got, the more crowded and dense the streets became. Vendors set up stalls along the sides, offering everything from books to baskets of fresh produce. The air was filled with the rich scent of roasted chestnuts and savory meats. Bella could hear the lively chatter of locals bartering and exchanging stories, the sound of children laughing as they darted through the crowds.

A large fountain stood prominently at the center of the piazza. Its base was adorned with intricate carvings, depicting scenes from Volterra's ancient past—Roman soldiers, Etruscan warriors, and mythical creatures locked in eternal battle. The water sparkled in the late afternoon sun, cascading gently into the basin below.

Bella stopped beside a stall selling intricate jewelry. Bella's fingers grazed over the cool beads and stones and glass that adorned each piece, admiring the delicate craftsmanship. The vendor, an elderly woman with wild, windswept white hair, offered her a warm smile, her hands moving deftly as she rearranged the display.

"Hai un buon occhio, signorina," the woman said, her voice rich with the accent of the region. She spoke more, pointing at each piece and speaking to Bella about them in Italian.

Bella smiled and nodded along. A set of two periwinkle stones, wrapped in wire to form a delicate pair of earrings, caught her eye next. The soft blue hue of the stones was calming, and the wirework was simple but charming. It was the kind of thing Bella pictured Renee would wear. Her mother had always been drawn to handmade, unique pieces like this; preferring them over anything mass-produced.

Bella paid the vendor, handing over the coins with a smile. The elderly woman carefully wrapped the earrings in soft tissue paper, her hands moving with practiced ease. "Grazie, signorina," she said warmly as she passed the small bundle to Bella.

With the purchase tucked safely in her bag, Bella continued along the line of stalls on her way to the clock tower. She ended up stopping again, this time purchasing a garnet-like stone with veins of ember running through it, glimmering like fire under the late afternoon sun. It's rich, red hue was encased in a simple silvery pendant, no larger than a quarter.

If she was honest with herself, she wasn't sure Charlie would actually like it. He wasn't exactly the type to wear jewelry, and she could hardly guess what kind of souvenir her dad would enjoy. Still, she figured at least this one came with a story—the vendor had eagerly told her how the stone was designed to ward off vampires and that the entire quarry had been blessed by St Marcus himself.

Even if Charlie didn't care for the pendant, the tale behind it might amuse him enough to keep it in his desk drawer or in the glove compartment of his police cruiser. She didn't believe Forks had any vampires to necessitate protection, but you never knew. Bella smiled at the thought.

As she approached the clock tower, Bella craned her neck to look above the crowds, trying to find the start of the tour Silvio had mentioned. She stepped atop the exterior rim of the fountain's basin for added leverage.

Up ahead was a woman, wearing a dark cloak, speaking to a crowd of tourists in English. "Follow along. The tour will start momentarily."

Bella quickly joined the back of the crowd as they were ushered through the busy streets into an obscure entrance at the side of the clocktower.

It was no wonder Bella had difficulty finding it.

The entrance was narrow and unmarked, tucked away in the shadow of the towering stone walls. The woman in the cloak, clearly the tour guide, led them through a dimly lit corridor, her voice echoing slightly as she spoke.

"Just a little farther. Stay together." Her voice held no trace of an accent, speaking English smoothly.

They were led into a dark, industrial elevator. The crowd was strangely quiet, no one had said a word, making the air feel heavy and suppressive. The faint hum of the machinery as the elevator began to descend was the only sound breaking the silence. Bella felt a shiver run down her spine as the elevator came to a stop with a gentle thud.

The doors slid open with a soft hiss, revealing a dimly lit underground chamber. The air was cooler here, with a slight dampness that clung to the stone walls. As the group stepped out of the elevator, the tour guide's footsteps echoed in the silence, and Bella couldn't shake off a rising sense of trepidation. It coiled around her gut like a snake.

Bella glanced at the others in the group, their faces shadowed in the dim light, but no one seemed to share her unease. The tour guide's calm, measured steps echoed as she led them further into the underground chamber.

She stopped in front of a steel metal door, opening its heavy handle with a creaking groan that echoed through the chamber. The door swung open slowly, revealing another dark room up ahead. A faint flicker of light from within barely penetrated through the thick darkness.

They stepped through, single file, one after the other. The woman stood next to the entrance watching them enter. As Bella neared, she was surprised to see how beautiful she was. Long, luminous timber hair framed her pale face. Her lips were plump, stretched over stunningly straight, white teeth. She was tall, the robe she wore obscured her long legs. Her eyes were dark, but had almost a purplish hue to them.

As Bella entered, the woman followed, shutting the metal door behind them. They were surrounded by steel walls. Bella's unease deepened. The walls felt too close, the air too thick, and the shadows danced unnervingly at the edges of her vision.

Another door stood at the opposite end of the room, from which a flood of cloaked figures poured out at unbelievable speed. They encircled the group like a pack of wolves.

"Nice fishing, Heidi." A voice rang out.

The tour guide smiled, sharp and wide. Heidi dipped her head in acknowledgement.

"Let's begin. I am absolutely famished."

"Finally," said another. This time a figure rushed out, snapping the neck of nearest tourist before sinking his teeth into their neck.

And just like that, the group broke out of their sedation. Screams rang out and people began to scatter in all directions, but the cloaked figures moved with impossible speed, herding them into a corner of the steel room like frightened cattle. Bella's heart raced, her breath catching in her throat as she pressed herself against the cold wall, desperately trying to make sense of the chaos unfolding around her.

"Alec, if you will."

A figure to Bella's right took a step forward. He brought his hands out, palms up, causing a thick mist of black smoke to seep out. It collected at the bottom and dispersed, slowly creeping forward— towards them.

Another tourist made a break for it, running straight at the cloaked figures in a desperate attempt to fight through.

"Pain," a soft, feminine voice said. And the man fell to the ground, screeching and withering in agony. His body spasmed, contorting in unnatural directions.

The black smoke fully enveloped the rest of them by now. The hysteria was replaced with a calm and eerie silence. Their panicked screams had died down, replaced by blank expressions and slackened jaws. Bella pressed herself further into the wall. Her heart racing, thundering in her chest like a canon.

"I so dislike when they get panicked like this. It always makes their blood taste foul."

"Ah, but the fear... it adds spice. You just don't appreciate the subtleties."

Another figure chimed in, this one with a raspier tone. "Give me a bit of terror any day. Makes the blood pulse, alive. Sedation if for the dull-hearted."

The first speaker sighed, clearly unimpressed. "Savages, all of you."

Bella eyed the door they came from. She inched slowly towards it as the cloaked figures seemed engrossed in their hushed conversation, their attention momentarily diverted from the terrified group. Bella's pulse hammered in her ears as she crept along the cold steel wall, her eyes fixed on the door. Just a few more steps, she thought, her hand already—

"We have a live one, Jane." The voice cut through the heavy silence like a knife, sending a fresh wave of terror through Bella. She froze, hand inches from the door, her body trembling. One of the cloaked figures, a tall and lean man with sharp features, had spoken.

"Pain," the soft voice spoke out again.

Bella braced herself but the torment didn't follow. She glanced at the group again, and spotted a short, fair haired child. Her eyes were a startling shade of red.

She glared fiercely at Bella, taking a step forward. Bella's breath caught in her throat as the child's red eyes locked onto hers. Her heart raced, her body frozen with fear, but still, no pain followed the ominous word.

The child took another step closer, her small, pale hand raised, fingers twitching. The tall man with sharp features gripped her elbow.

The child, Jane, narrowed her eyes even further, clearly growing more agitated. "Why isn't it working?" she hissed.

"Dearest Jane, it seems she's immune," He chuckled delightfully. It contrasted strongly to his predator-like gaze. "How interesting."

The tall man stepped forward, his cold eyes now fixed on Bella. "Perhaps this one is... special." His words sent a chill down her spine as he continued, "Let's find out, shall we?"

He approached her. Walking slowly, his steps were silent. His red eyes never left hers, their intensity freezing her in place. She wanted to run, to scream, but her body was stuck in place.

"Hello," he whispered, his voice soft. A lazy smile stretched over his face. He stuck a hand out. "What's your name?"