Joyriding: Anthony & Sasha
Sasha wasn't actually expecting the Anthony guy from the forum to show up. She held little in the reliability of others to begin with, and had been let down by at least one person here she could actively think of, but there were probably more if she really thought about it. Still, it had been a nice little daydream of tooling around in that Mustang for all of five minutes. Then she went back to work.
She was not used to men of their words.
The Senator had been showing Alfred Hitchcock films all day long. People had trickled in and out in the afternoon, and Sasha was absolutely floored that people wanted to watch these old movies. They weren't her taste, but the couple of weeks that she'd had the theater up and running were wonders on her patience. Besides, the current film's title, Strangers on a Train, had caught her interest for reasons she would never divulge. The current audience was interesting to say the least. There were quite a large number of teenagers that had taken up the habit of hanging out in the theater once school let out for the day because it gave them a place to unabashedly make-out with their dates in the brightly colored cars that had replaced regular theater seats.
When the man in the leather jacket walked in, the short Jersey girl's eyebrows raised in interest. Sasha, first and foremost, was a grifter, and that came with an aptitude for reading people. He was looking for someone, not a seat. Not that it was difficult to figure that much out. It was around when Anthony said he would show up with Stella. Why did he look familiar? Maybe she'd served him when she was still the waitress over at the Cat. That was far more plausible than the itching at the back of her mind she knew him from elsewhere. Back home somehow. Whatever. That wasn't important at the moment. This guy actually showed up. Color Sasha impressed.
Had she expected the joyride, she may have dressed a little better. She would have at least done something with the wild curls that bounced around her shoulders with each step she took towards him. Sasha was in her usual brown leather pants with a white tank top under her red patchwork hoodie. Not exactly the classiest of ladies. "You know, you don't strike me as the type for Hitchcockian suspense. You must be here for a sugar high from the milkshakes." She leaned lazily against the hood of a purple car and smirked at Anthony, arms crossed loose over her chest.