I saved him the trouble and moved the hair myself, pushing the curly black strands behind my ears. His eyebrows went up again, though not as dramatically this time. I guess he liked what he saw. It's possible. I mean, I don't consider myself a raving beauty. I'm what people call interesting, or striking, or handsome. Not really movie-star material is what I'm getting at. I've got the almond eyes, but they're a particular hue of amber-yellow that most people find disturbing. My face is heart shaped, and my lips, while full and of a deep pink color, seem to be in a permanent smirk. That turns some people off. And my nose is definitely not a prize. I got it from my father. Sharp, aquiline. More a Roman general's nose than a model's. I'm sure there were much nicer looking girls in here somewhere. Yet, he was interested in me for some reason.

Since I hadn't responded, he repeated his question. "I said, you think I'm a cheap loser?"

"Yes" I said finally, restraining the growl in my throat by sheer willpower, "I do. Hell, you've got the uniform. The cheesy suit, the slicked hair, the cologne, the same old pickup lines... I mean, do they train and outfit you people?"

He laughed. Laughed. He either thought he could get around it, or he was genuinely amused by my assessment. I think it was a combination of the two.

"Well," he said spreading his hands in a "got me" gesture, "I hope they do. I mean, considering the monumental rejection you just gave me, I probably need extra help or something..."

I couldn't keep the smile off my face, and it bothered me. I hoped he hadn't seen it, but when I looked into his eyes, I saw the mirth there and knew he had. Damn. He put out his hand.

"Name's Joe. Joseph Cohen. Pleased to meet you..."

I looked at the hand. He kept it there. I looked at it again, determined not to shake it. He looked me straight in the eyes and silently urged me to take his hand. I wouldn't. He kept it there. Damn him. Damn him and his damned patience. I took his hand gruffly, but before I could shake it, he pulled it to his lips and kissed it lightly.

It wasn't unpleasant. I'll be honest. His lips felt soft and cool on my skin, and the kiss was sweet, almost pure in its own way. As if I was being introduced to a prince from a fairy tale and not some bum in a bar. That didn't keep me from yanking my hand out of his grasp as soon as possible though. Even if I did like it, I didn't want him to know that.

"And you?" He asked, ignoring my bad reaction to his chivalrous act. Damn him, but he was persistent.

"Luna." My lips were open so you could see my teeth, but I wasn't smiling.

"Luna?"

I snorted. "What? You want more?"

"Well, I was thinking a last name would be nice..." 

"What, so you can stalk me?"

"No, just curious."

"Salycaon."

Again, the eyebrows rose. I was getting used to it now, even if it was a little annoying. "Nice name. Interesting..."

I glared at him. "Do you have a problem with my last name?"

"No," Joe replied, hurrying to assure me of the fact, "It's just a little...unusual."

Damn. The glare wasn't working like I'd hoped. It had worked on all the others. Two of them hadn't even stopped to grab their drinks. But no, this one just had to be brave. Gotta love my luck.

"Good" I was being a bi…well, a particularly unpleasant person. Yet he stayed. He was tolerant; I'd give him that. And, I finally said to myself, I guess I could spare some effort to be nice if he was going to all that trouble for me, being patient and all. I relaxed a bit, which he probably noticed. Predators notice such things. Then he asked me:

"So, what ARE you doing here, really?"

"Well," I said, my voice noticeably more pleasant, "I was lonely and this place had no line..."

"And no ID check..." he finished. Crap. Brains and balls. I didn't think they made that kind anymore.

"Yeah, I don't exactly qualify to be in here." I whispered, giving him a pointed look. Maybe if he realized I was too young, he would get lost.

No such luck. "Well, to be perfectly honest, it was just a lucky guess from a fellow who's been in a similar situation. You carry yourself well, I'll admit, and you have a confidence that most people your age lack..." Joe said it softly, not wanting to blow my cover, as it were, and his voice held a note of genuine respect that had been missing previous to this comment.

"And just how old are you?" I asked, unable to stop the nasty twinge in my own question. I was starting to like this guy's company, and that fact bothered me. It was like finding out that calamari was squid, though it was sort of the other way around.

He looked at me for a moment, and then blinked. Guess I surprised him with that one.

"Twenty." Joe replied, keeping his voice low. At first I didn't believe him. I mean, most guys aren't into that sort of sleazy stage until the early forties. But as I looked at him, really looked at him, I saw that he was telling the truth. That face, with it's twice-broken nose and good looks, had almost no wrinkles on it, and his actions, once examined a bit closer, were less adult then they had seemed at the time. The darkness had hidden his age, as had his eyes. They seemed so worn. They were the eyes of someone who had lived a long time, but wasn't very old. As if he'd seen a lot, perhaps too much, but had still retained part of his innocence, part of the child he'd been. I was intrigued.

"Seventeen."

"Younger then I thought..." he murmured.

"Is that a good thing or a bad thing?"

"Neither" he said quickly, "Just a fact."

"I'm glad you feel that way, Joe."

He looked surprised that I'd used his name. Pleasantly surprised. He smiled. In fact, he practically glowed with contentment for a moment, but stopped as he swiveled to look around the place. Funny, I had almost forgotten what a God-forsaken trash heap I was in. I guess company makes you disregard some things.

"Wanna get out of here, I mean, with me?"

I smiled at him, and the grin he'd gotten at my using his name widened. He wasn't such a bad guy, once he dropped the sleaze act and you really  got to know him.

"Sure... Anywhere but here." I wasn't worried he'd try anything. I could take care of myself if he did, though.

"I know a place, you know, this bookshop down the block? There isn't any music, but the shop does have some really great hot chocolate..."

I managed to keep my tongue in my mouth and my chin off the floor. Fate was either playing the worst practical joke in the history of the planet, or shining on me like she'd never shone before. I prayed it was the latter.

"Wanna go?" He asked again. He seemed a little nervous, as if the question had uncovered him for some kind of geek. Thank the Good Lord, he wasn't kidding.

"I'd love to go to the book store with you, Joe. Sounds like a lot more fun than anything else I had planned tonight..."

Again, that genuine smile graced his face and seemed to light it from within. I liked how it made him look. More honest, more... I don't know, real. And it made him look far more handsome then any suit or hair oil. We made our way out, and I made a mental note to tell him that. The two of us walked for a bit, until I noticed the shadows in the alley we were walking by were moving in a sinister fashion.

Damn. Damn it all to Hell! Couldn't these thugs pick on some other person? My evening was finally picking up. Now, I'd have to save Joe, and I didn't know how he'd feel about his date to saving him. I'm not sure his male pride would be able to handle it. But more importantly, if he saw me taking care of things, he'd probably be more afraid of me than the thugs.

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