Re: Elevator
The humor didn't bother her, and she just quirked a brow, waiting to see if he'd repeat the word again. He sounded like money when he said it, somewhere rich fuckers lived that could afford boats and horses and vacations at the Vineyard. She'd only known a few of those in her life, but she was getting really good at picking out the type. He was another one her parents would insist she take for every last dime, if they knew where she was. Good people, her parents, but thieves to their last bone.
"You want to take that up with my mom?" she asked, and now it was just stubbornness, not giving her full name. "I'm the only girl. She was really used to boy's names by the time I came around," she explained. The hand at her back, which would have been absolutely nothing in the past, made her step falter. But the drugs were enough to keep it steady, to keep her from lashing out or freaking, and she just smirked over her shoulder at him, something definitely French in her features. "Daniel," she repeated, just because she could, and her smirk widened a little. "I bet Daniel doesn't dance."