It's a slow night downtown

"Aurelie, but most just call me Aura..." she smiles, loving the sound of the engine, having started getting addicted to driving since Darren started teaching her.

He smiles as he sees her appreciation for the car shine through. He revs the engine once, then twice as his hand comes to rest on the gear shift. He holds on to it loosely and glances down at the gages that litter the dash. Then his eyes lift to the road and it seems as though the rest of the world drops away.

"You might want to hold on," he says, as if repeating rote.

In an instant, the machine surges forward with the high pitched battle cry of the rubber tearing into the pavement. In less than ten seconds, Jonesy is guiding the vehicle with zen-like lip focus. He takes each turn with simple ease, and the road seems to give itself to him. Lights turn green just when he needs them to, hard turns come at just the right angle. It's as though he dances across rain slicked streets as if he were some Spanish Toreador seducing his partner with the ebb and flow of a tango.

Finally, after a few minutes he relaxes. "Where's home, Aura?"

Her eyes go WIDE, having never RACED around in a car and still rather fresh out of torpor where the fastest thing anyone had was a horse drawn carraige.

"Good Heavens," she breathes, staring wide eyed at the street lights whipping by at high speed.

"You are quite the driver Donovan!" she smiles widely, telling him her cross streets.

He relaxes, a smirk of confidence painting his face. "It's what I do, darling. It's what I do."

He leans back, letting the cool comfort of the drive take over as all his thoughts and anxiety finally slips away. He took his hand off the gear shift and slipped it into his jacket, retrieving a pack of cigarettes. He shifted the pack around in his hand for a moment until one of them popped up. He took it into his mouth and then held the pack out to her, "You mind if I smoke?"

"No not at all. My goodness, I must have walked all the way across the city," she says, watching the lights go by, quite calm and lovely, just sitting impassively in the seat, watching him drive to learn occasionally.

He returned the smokes into the pocket of his jacket as she gazed at the city passing them by. When his hand reappeared from the folds of his coat it held a tiny chrome lighter that sprang to life for only an instant. He took two brief draws from his cigarette, expelling them with a slow, relaxed sigh.

He reached up, turning the knob of the radio. A moment later, the low sounds of music served as a soundtrack to the city that passed them by. The soft strains of an acoustic, wordless Stairway to Heaven filled the cab.

After a few moments of silence, Jonesy finally broke the tension. "C'mon, Aura, what's the story? A girl like you? A place like Low? Alone? Something's outta sorts."

"I like to go on walks at night," she shrugs, totally relaxed despite being in the car with a total stranger, and having been walking around a slum.

He nodded. She was a terrible liar, but when you had looks that could mend shattered dreams, you could afford to be a terrible liar. Hell, Jonesy though, why do I care? He had always told himself it's better if you don't get involved. They get a ride. You get a fair. End of story. Besides, getting involved usually was how things got messy and Jonesy had come to Sacramento to leave a mess behind, not start a whole new one.

"Fair enough," he said politely. After a second or two of silence, he spoke up again. "Where's your place, Aura?"

She gives him the cross streets, it in the posh downtown area where the high rise apartments cost a considerable amount.

"You are available for calling when people need a ride mon ami? Not just at that particular street corner?" she asks, smiling gorgeously, crystal blue eyes sparkling in the dim light.

"Sweetheart, I live and breathe these streets. You ever need a ride, you let me know and I'll be glad to give you a spin to where ever the party's at." He flashed her a brief smile before striking a match against the metal of the steering wheel and touching it to the unlit cigarette he clenched in his teeth.

After a long draw, he let out a relaxed sigh and blew the smoke out the window. He took a moment to glance over at his passenger. For the first time he got a moment to develop a sense of the mysterious French seductress.