The light mist that had gathered when Danny took off from the complex had gradually transformed into a downpour by the time he entered into Fairton. The rain hammered down more and more urgently on the roof of his car the closer he came to the outskirts of the city, as if somehow the clouds had known of his plans and were warning him of the absurdity of his actions. Still, it was a warning he was able to ignore, and it took him less than a half hour to reach the intersection, even without the weather gods on his side.

The agent squinted through the haze as his wipers struggled to keep up with the rain that pelted his windshield. The intersecting street signs were illuminated against the darkness by his headlights.

Port and Landis.

Idling past rows of ill-kempt government houses, Danny looked around. Well, the streets were here. Whether Jordan still was or not – that was the question.

He received his answer much more quickly than he expected. Against the headlights, a small imp of a girl scurried out from the side of a dilapidated building and waved her arm to him. Making sure that it was her, Danny slowed his speed and pulled alongside the curb. He didn’t need to flicker his brights to let her know it was him. She’d seen his car before.

The sixteen year old threw open the door of his Stratus and climbed inside as quickly as she could before slamming the door behind her.

Jordan Coliandri in all her ragged glory turned to stare at him with wide eyes.

“Hey,” she said, rain wetting her lips.

He looked her up and down. “Hey.”

She looked about the same as the last time he had seen her months before. However, completely doused by the impromptu downpour, she appeared worse. Her wet clothes clung to her goose-bumped skin, and her straight black hair – long due for a clipping – dripped rainwater onto the floor of his car.

She sniffed backward. “Got a towel?”

Looking away, Danny reached into the back of the Stratus. Naturally, he had no towels, but there was a sheet from a barbeque he’d been to weeks before. That would have to do.

“Here.” When he handed it to her, their eyes met. There were noticeable black bags under her blue eyes. But hadn’t they always been there? Danny looked away. He tried not to think about it.

“Thanks,” she said. Grabbing it, Jordan furiously ran it through her hair and over her shoulders. She shot him one of her patented smartass smirks. “Hope I didn’t interrupt anything.”

As he pulled away from the curb, Danny gave a small smirk himself, but it disappeared before hers did. “I don’t suppose you want to tell me what you’re doing on the outskirts of Brooklyn at 1 in the morning.”

Jordan made a show of taking in the atmosphere of the Stratus. “This is a nice car, Danny.”

He supposed right. She didn’t. He wouldn’t push her for details. With the roles his status of an FBI agent asked him to fill, it was probably better if he didn’t know anyway. He nodded and turned his eyes back to the road.

A few minutes passed by, before Jordan let out a short groan and tossed the sheet into the back.

“What?” Danny asked.

He snuck a peek to see her rummaging through her decrepit beige tote-bag that held all her worldly possessions. She pulled out a pink see-through jewel-case holding a burnt CD called “Mix #3” and opening the hinges, slid it into his CD player. “I can’t take awkward silence.”

The first track came on, featuring an acoustic guitar player singing about some girl he had lost. For some reason, the added background noise did give Danny a chance to speak. He put on his blinker. “You hungry?”

“Yeah.”

He turned right. “Okay.”