He nodded and though he opened his mouth as if to say something, he said nothing. He clutched his book still in his hand, tight enough his knuckles were white from the strain. He kept his right hand in his pocket, fingers curled.
He'd been picked up by a vortex. A tornado had dropped him in the middle of LA. It didn't make sense, and it was all really starting to feel like some kind of crazy dream. He didn't know what to think, but he was going to follow her.
Dream or not, she was gorgeous. She kind of reminded him of Jennifer, in a way. She was a little more...uptown, maybe, than Jenn, but she had the long blonde hair, the kind soft eyes. Jenn wanted to help everyone. If Jenn saw a wounded bird, she wanted to take it home and nurse it back to health. This woman was a lot like that, and Charlie was the wounded bird.