Aah, she was French. This was a revelation, perhaps a light to clarify this ambiguity of a girl. Dean could picture her at the height of fashion, clad in one of those stunning chic dresses, hand tailored to suit her measurements as much as her ego.

A lazy smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, sagging to nothingness when he received a response.

"Old man?" Expression now more clouded than ever, his eyes visibly widened as he stared up at her. The girl was still in a daze, and he was prepared to snatch her wrist again if she made for a getaway. He'd normally dub her behaviour as childish, except he'd never met a kid her age acting so thoughtlessly. His stomach churned as he folded his legs, curiosity numbing that dull sensation - of hunger coupled with mild dismay.