If he was to ask why she was interested in him, she wouldn’t know how to respond. Even she didn’t get it. Other than wanting to keep a keen eye on him (once a hunter, always a hunter, no matter what she told herself otherwise), she had to figure it was because he was shiny and new, kind of like a toy. That was the cold-hearted version of it, while the less-cold idealism held that she just admired his chivalry and liked the way he looked at her. So far, there was nothing to con out of him that she could see, and even if she could, she would probably think twice about it. It was strange new territory, ground she hadn’t walked on for a while; looking for some sort of companionship, no matter for how short a period of time. Knowing herself, she knew she wouldn’t let it last long.
“Well, here’s to havin’ to get some air then,” she clunk her bottle against his and then took another swig. While on the clock, she probably shouldn’t have been drinking (not to mention she wasn’t at the legal age yet), but rather selfishly, she didn’t care. It took more than a couple of beers to get her drunk, so she wasn’t losing any mental capacity off of one bottle of booze in her system. “Although I should admit… this place ain’t the best for fresh air. It gets pretty ripe in here,” she gestured around. “All the hunters sweatin’ to the girls on stage. And some of these guys, man, they don’t even shower on a regular basis.”
Jackie smirked when he asked her how she’d been. It was such a small-talk sort of question to ask. Then again, she had to figure, he couldn’t be too used to seeing people more than once. “Um, fine,” she replied. “I apparently made the introduction of a real, live fallen angel,” she said with a resigned grin. “Still think the boy just needs to clean his bong or somethin’. You find the weirdest people in New Orleans, y’know?”