"Untouchable907," Annie told him, pulling her cell phone out of her pocket to make a quick memo of his tag. Gamers must be able to sniff out gamers, she thought. Perhaps even after her morning shower, there was still a scent of Twizzlers lingering on her. Wouldn't be completely unreasonable -- she'd recently garnered a bellyache the likes of which she hadn't seen since her fifth birthday's cake-and-ice-cream binge thanks to a bit too much sugar and artificial flavoring.
The digital timestamp glaring at her from the corner of the phone screen was a bit of a reality check, and Annie sighed. She still had a long drive ahead of her.
"I should probably get on the road," she said, a note of sadness in her voice. "I'm a ways outside of the city and it's been a bitch of a day. I'll keep an eye out for you online."