A very kind person pointed out something to me that I missed, I'm using this to quickly adjust some details, barely noticable, but one misnamed character was enough for me <<

If you read the old draft, you'd see a character called Fern in the bar, who I later renamed Cassandra, but for whatever reason going from computer to paper then back again, forgot to tweak her name to normal!

~~~~~~~~~~~


This story is based upon the Foxforce Universe written by  NathanCowan and based upon the original art of  Dynotaku

You may remember I posted a good while back THIS comic:

http://www.furaffinity.net/view/4388960/


Here now, the story is developed a little further, as Jasmine goes about her daily life and begins to ponder where to next go with her life, when she meets someone new in her little mountain town.

Cameos are here and there, but no scoreboard on this one, just a thank you for Nathan for helping me finish this up, as well as to he and Dyno for creating the stories of the Foxforce Universe!

If you'd like to see more, I will advise there is a very mature rating to the stories and art dealing with sexuality, violence and slavery, as well as a few other close cutting issues, these stories may not be for the faint of heart, but they are a strong series that I look forward to seeing more soon!

So, here's to Nathan and Dyno for this one!


~~~~~~~~~~~


December 23, Boston MA -- The fifth day of silent protest...


A silent protest continues today in Massachusetts for lapine Chimera, Satin Dunn.

The recent story about this slave who sustained serious injuries trying to escape her owner in Georgia, but with the aid of friends managed to travel a distance of over a thousand miles before getting her treatment.

Staff at Massachusetts General Hospital issued a statement that a Chimera patient is currently in intensive care and under observation, but has provided no further comment on her condition at this moment.

Regardless, over a hundred concerned citizens - Human and Chimera - now sit in vigilance until further word of her condition improves.

Many Chimera rights activists and members of organizations such as the NAAAP are calling this a wakeup call for the treatment of slaves and are now looking to petition Congress with an amendment to the Lincoln Act.


"Jasmine?"


Opposition cites the right to own slaves is as much a part of the American life as it is the right to bear arms.

It is hard to believe this small group of likeminded folk can make a difference, but as a well known man spoke in 1963:


"Jasmine!"


"...Yes, Jay?" The vixen let out a sigh, not even looking up from what was written on the screen, a digit’s claw hovering above the Tab key while her ears flicked backward to him, at least affording him that much attention.

She stared at the screen until the words she’d thrown together became a jumble that lost any meaning; she stared over the rim of her glasses past them at the outdated glass screen until she saw the reflection of the white fur, trim snout and red eyes now blinking back at her.

"What is this?"

She didn’t answer the voice; instead she stared at this reflection: this fox sitting there in full business dress and shirt, with a short-cut tie so tight it acted as a collar round her neck, she looked more like a pet secretary than any self respecting journalist.

Finally, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath, opening them again to look at what she’d wrote again, swivelling her chair and swinging a full leg cast round to meet the editor in chief of the Alaskan Express news page.

You may as well have paid Marvel royalties and imagined a cigar chomping, wise-cracking pickle puss, because James White was a flat-topped, moustached lookalike for JK Simmons right down to the vest and rolled up sleeves.

Although right now it was the rolled up piece of paper in hand that caught Jasmine’s attention, she looked up past the soul patch and moustache to the man himself as if expecting him to smack her on the nose with it, "What is it, sir?"

"That’s better," He nodded affirmatively before folding arms, still keeping the hard copy of the paper in sight as he tapped away in the air with it, "You still running with that hippy vigil story?"

She folded her arms too, somewhat more clumsily with a second cast that had swallowed her left arm from the elbow down, "Well, yes, I thought we were looking for a personal angle here on the Martin Luther King Day?"

"Who?"

"Martin Luther King?"

"...The guy with Bruce Willis in those _Bad Boyz_ movies?"

The foxgirl let out an irate groan, rubbing her healthy hand into a half-curled mess of hair atop her head, "No, that would be Martin Lawrence you’re thinking of... and also Will Smith."

"Fah, they all look the same to me," Jasmine barely fought an urge to balk at her owner as he reached for a cigar pack handily stored in his shirt pocket, "Then who the bupkiss is Martin Luther Prince?!"

"Martin Luther King: the man who tried to push black rights but was refused permission to hold a public rally in the 60’s?"

"Oh, yeah! He was the nut job who broke into the Senate and tried to pull a filibuster?"

"Yes, but-"

"Hah! Never even got past the ‘I have a dream’ shtick before they shot him between the eyes, yeah, go nuts kid."

"You’re kind of missing the point here, sir-"

"No, Jasmine." Without another word he reached round and rotated her chair slowly until she faced the screen again, leaning in over her shoulder, "You’re the one missing the point here.

"It’s your job to do the jobs we give you, plus, you got your own column, the Chimera crowd and the kids eat up your geek corner, you got a niche, and it sells, you stick to that, leave all the serious stories to the others, you hear?"

Jasmine kept silent for just a moment, as if the collar around her neck had tightened, not a word came from her, not an inch she budged, but her fingers curled down on the desk until she finally nodded, "Yes, sir."

White stood up with a silent pause of his own, then about turned with his own nod, "Good, nice to see we’re on the same page and all.

"But run with that Martin Luther Queen hooey, should be good for Chimera morale or something."

With that he left the small cubicle penned around her, a sharp whistle issuing to the next unfortunate worker in his sights, "Swanson! I told you that deadline was two hours ago!"

Jasmine nearly collapsed where she sat, but let out a sigh of relief, she could have wished for a better owner, but at least she reflected there were many Chimerae worse off than her elsewhere. She fell back in her seat and looked around at the small cubicle that housed her life.

In her time at the newscast, she'd heard more than a few folks talk about being stuck in a dead end job: she also knew those people complained a lot more about their dead end job than actually done anything about it.

For a Chimera it wasn’t just as simple as handing in your two week notice and padding down to the local recruitment center.

Chimerae were born built and matured artificial intelligences, created in a vat and custom made to order. Everything that was Jasmine was programmed in and stamped on her brain.

And unfortunately in Jasmine’s case, that stamp probably read ‘Void’.

She was a class C reconditioned vulpine model slave, re-educated with general etiquette, English, with a case of brittle bones and a copy of Windows Vista crammed in her head, rented out to a cheapskate news jockey in the middle of the Alaskan wastes acting as his eye candy.

"Oh, Jasmine?" A voice added itself to the number of items Jasmine was collecting in this list of things wrong with her life; the girl seethed silently and felt the hackles of fur behind her neck rise up in anticipation.

"Hello, Wally," she turned halfway in her chair without disturbing her casted leg to look at the tall and wiry colleague now slinking into her personal space, "What can I do for you today?"

Despite numerous assurances people gave Jasmine of Wally’s status as a member of the human race, she was certain there was some Mustelid somewhere in his past, a sweaty, sloppily dressed gap year entrant with spiked red hair and spots and an odor that certainly reminded her of something that dragged its testes along the ground. If Jasmine didn’t already bat for the girls, she was certain Wally would have made her lose faith in the opposite gender long ago.

He loitered there behind her whilst tapping an empty folder he always carried around to make it look like he was doing something else, "Oh, nothing. Nothing. How’s the leg?"

"Healing, same as the arm, let’s leave it that way, hmm?"

"Good, good. Well, listen, I wanted to ask a favor."

He swayed back and forth like a marten, before producing a second folder under the first. "You wouldn’t want to take this file off of me and proof all the articles for the weekend section, would you?"

"You’re absolutely right!" Jasmine chimed happily and sat straight again, "I wouldn’t."

Jasmine didn’t look back, but she could already visualize the loosening of Wally’s tie, the hand combing through the hair of her co-worker behind her as he stalked closer.

"You know..." He began in a conversational tone, "I could go to Jay Dubya and say you’ve been refusing direct instructions from a senior staff member?"

"You could," She rolled the words off her tongue lazily while she returned to typing, "Although then that would mean you’d have to admit to your boss that you can’t get his slave Chimera to follow your most basic instructions, right before you were planning on asking him about that promotion you ask for every month.

"Wouldn’t it?"

She listened to the silence and allowed herself a little grin of victory at the begrudging shuffle of papers followed by Wally’s overly polished shoes squeaking away.

"Nicely handled," a friendly face jumped over the cubicle wall as Jen hung her arms and head over the top, "If I were you, I’d have used my kung fu fox skills on him ages ago."

"Thanks, Jen, but I think the most I could do physically to him right now is give his crotch a good smack with my crutch... and since I keep his balls figuratively in a sling already I think that would just be animal cruelty."

There was a small laugh between the two at that. Jen was a pretty girl for a human as far as Jasmine was concerned: copper skin and a wild black thick of hair that was tied down into a ponytail, a cardigan that forever was tied around her waist and a collection of tribal looking jewellery that hung from her wrists and her neck, as well as brown eyes and a nice smile to go with them.

More than once Jasmine had considered Jen as a possible girl to ask home with her, but considering she lived in a small room above the offices, she was certain the rule about office relationships applied doubly here.

Besides that, she enjoyed having someone she could talk to and be frank with during work hours’, having a good friend was a lot more rewarding than a one night lay. Even if it had been long enough to make it look more inviting.

"Are we still on for girl’s night at the watering hole?" Jen pushed further over the top of the wall.

Jasmine sighed and kept an eye on the screen, "Well, Jay has me doing some filing in the archives section..."

"Ouch, watch out for book slides."

"Yuh-huh, but with a little gumption and a Sherpa guide I should be alright..." Jasmine stopped herself when a message flashed in her head; having a Blackberry in her brain may have been helpful for a rolodex, but it was a bit of a conversation killer when trying to read her e-mail.

Luckily Jen had long ago learned to recognise the look of consternation on the fox; she spoke up sympathetically, "Jay with more orders?"

"No, luckily not," Jasmine returned attention to Jen and her desk, offering a small grin before she hit the PC’s sleep button, "Better news, allotted lunch break."

"Heading upstairs?"

"Nah, I’m going to venture outside for the fayre," Jasmine plucked up her crutch and threw a purse around her shoulder.

"Outside," Jen frowned, "It’s the week before Christmas, there’s even more snow out there than usual, you’re on crutches with two broken limbs and you want to go outside?"

Settling herself on her good foot and checking her balance, Jasmine made sure she hadn’t forgotten anything before glancing back to Jen, straightening her glasses, "And?"

Jen just shrugged and laughed, climbing back down behind her side of the cubicle, "Get me a churro while you’re out?"


~~~~~~~


The small town of Tuaq was quiet to say the least, a population that had dwindled to maybe a few hundred at a push, so it was respectfully simple, no tall buildings, instead the avenues stood preserved with the same wooden boardwalks they’d held hundreds of years previous.

Tuaq was a word of Native American origin which - roughly translated - meant an old block of ice frozen into a new block of ice. Something about that word said everything you needed to know about the town right in one go: kids wanted out of it and old folk wanted them gone sooner, it was a sleepy place for people who didn’t mind a simpler way of life compared to the hustle and bustle of the big city.

And it all centered around one tiny block of life; a single square of greenery lat lay in a small park that had been near forgotten like many other American towns; at the head of the park one would find the town hall, an old white and blue assembly with bell tower and flag; and lining either side of the roads, all the traditional stores you’d need in a town like this, blacksmith’s and tailors, to butchers and bakers – although strangely, never a candlestick maker Jasmine found - with no brand names or corporate identities in sight whatsoever.

From any one side of the street, a person could sit and watch the day go by without even moving.

So it was just as well that you would find the Alaskan Express’ news office there, along with Jasmine’s favorite bench to sit on.

But as quiet as it was, Tuaq had room for one special occasion in Her Heart.

Independence Day was celebrated with sparklers, Halloween with pumpkin pie and Thanksgiving of course warranted parting with a few turkeys from the local farms, but of any holiday, Christmas was a must.

For one solid month of the year, the town’s obsolete park was transformed into a thriving little fayre: stands of foreign goods and foreign folk offered their wares from warm clothes to warm foodstuffs; wood carved trinket toys and curios; each as outlandishly expensive and trashy as the last.

But none of that mattered.

Who cared that the fake snow trimming the stalls was badly painted cotton balls or that the rackety store fronts didn’t quite fit when the entire town would gather and just soak up the atmosphere of another winter halfway through?

And for Jasmine in particular, this was a very special moment.

She settled on her bench slowly, taking care as she balanced her good leg and lowered herself down with her good hand, before finally dropping her crutch and smiling at it all. You could say that she looked at things a little differently, in a very literal manner.

For humans, observation of the world definitely belongs to sight, seeing is believing for almost everything perceived, it’s the sense most trusted, if asked we describe most events by the sight of them, but this is for the human species.

For a Chimera, the world is brought by a completely different set of senses, a more developed nose and far more sensitive ears: sight is by far the weakest sense of any Chimera, where they instead favored the sounds, and the smells, the animal part of them that couldn’t be quashed or conditioned away.

This was Jasmine’s real treat.

Like everyone else she couldn’t care less about the tacky decorations or the rushed sense of it all; here in this town for one single month was a place where people met, where people laughed and argued and just threw themselves together: and she could feel it all.

The giggling kids, the sizzle of food stands hard at work, the grilled smell of meats and sweet waft of baked goods: she could sense it all and pick it out to enjoy every moment.

All around her, the money and gifts didn’t matter, it was the spirit of it all, people enjoying themselves, the townsfolk allowing themselves to be unselfish and soak up the real spirit of the holiday called Christmas that Jasmine just didn’t know anywhere else.

Why would she spend her time inside, watching it all through a window and detached from it, when she could sit here and let just soak it up?

This was a small slice of heaven to her, with only one other slice that could beat it.

She looked at her lap now to her recent purchase, 4 dollars worth of toasted bread drizzled in a rich garlic sauce and thinly sliced salami, a freshly made slab of garlic bread, all served up with a dollars’ worth of soda.

Was it worth slaving away every day to live in a place like this?

Jasmine already knew that answer as she took the garlic bread delicately between her good hand and the casted one, trying not to let the swimming garlic butter get on her or her clothes, any kind of sticky substance was not pleasant in her fur, nor was it inside her cast.

In all retrospect, it was quite backwards and probably more trouble than it was worth, but she’d spend 30 minutes enjoying it - and she would savor every moment.

"Bon appétit," she grinned, opening a jaw full of fanged teeth before biting down happily.


~~~~~~~~~~~~


It was nice that Tuaq was quiet, but like every other town it needed a night life, something to have a lit window in the night and ward off the darkness, even if it was just the Pow-Wow.

The small box shaped building looked like it had been slotted into place behind the main street’s stores like an afterthought, a hokey little hole in the wall that was decorated in more fake native American decorations than a kindergarten Thanksgiving play.

Jasmine glimpsed at her internal clock and let out an irate growl, 19:33, she was already far more late than she had expected to be.

It wasn’t really the workload James had left in her lap that had made her late – although she was sure there was a saying about slave labour that would have been real ironic right about now – it was the fact that five minutes walking distance did not translate well to crutching distance.

But despite being half an hour late, she had to check how the damage control from just how rushed she had gotten ready, balanced there on her good leg and crutch wearing a plaid skirt and a baggy black turtleneck that managed to nearly cover her skirt and hide the cast on her forearm all at once, she looked like a wallflower on prom night, even right down to the turtleneck flattening her already washboard sized chest.

Just because vision wasn’t a Chimera’s main sense didn’t mean Jasmine was fashion blind, she certainly realised she’d made a mistake somewhere in getting ready, but she couldn’t do much about it now, taking a breath and flattening down her skirt before she entered.

"Hey John, are the girls here yet?" Immediately she was greeted by a look from the bartender; John was a near mountain of a man, dark skinned with a face pock marked with age, black hair tied back into a set of braids that hung over his shoulders, he was the epitome of Native American stereotype, only a few feathers away from looking a full Inuit chieftain.

"In back, little miss." Just like every pizza vendor you ever saw with a fake moustache and Italian name, Jasmine had to wonder about the mountain of a man behind the Pow-Wow, if he kept his heavy accent after work, he seemed about as fake as the rest of the place, or he was so conspicuous he had to be genuine, "Usual?"

"Thank you, no, I’d better catch up to them first," She grinned apologetically as she swept her head round the rest of the bar, notoriously empty as always, a few regulars hunched at the bar as she smelled the scent of lingering tobacco, salted snacks and despite several bouts of disinfectant, there was still a trace of vomit she could smell somewhere.

But there was something else, her nose twitched as she turned to one of the booths in the corner, cinnamon, perfumes, she couldn’t quite make out the figure, but it was someone new, someone out of town, which was usually big news in a place as small as this.

She leaned on her crutches slowly, letting herself slide a little to the side until she could glimpse an edge of a face, blue hair and the edge of a modest sized chest. She tried to lean a little further to see more when John cleared his throat behind her.

"Other ‘in back’," the barkeep nodded while dusting off a pitcher.

"Oh, yeah, sorry... just kind of dazed," She laughed, shrugging as she turned away, daring just glance back, for a second, catching a pair of eyes watching her from the alcove, before she crutched off toward the sound of laughter at the far end of the bar.

As Jasmine crutched her way further along it gradually grew brighter, a set of happy tones ring from the end table and its clinking glasses until finally she could see Jen and the other girls.

"Hey, Hop-A-Long!" Jen suddenly stood up and grabbed her a chair, along with the attention of nearly everyone in the bar, "Room for one more here!"

"Thanks," Jasmine snorted with a roll of eyes, dismounting her crutc.hes and accepting the seat – mindful to raise her tail out of the way lest she wanted to break a tail as well – looking round the group, "Sorry I’m late, did I miss much?"

"Not much, just Tiff about to spill on which celebrity got outed as a Chimera." Cassandra volunteered, a mousy woman with a beehive of black hair as meticulously balanced on her head as her jeweller’s glasses.

"Oh, please, these two work in the news industry, anything I can say they’ve probably heard through the grapevine long before me." Tiffany was a well built woman, tall, well toned, she may not have been ready to shred her clothes like she-hulk, but the blonde mountain born woman had more muscle than mammary on her impressive chest.

"And how are you today, Hon?" She spoke with a soft tone that belied her size and stance.

Jasmine gave an unchaste grin; there wasn’t an inch of her body this mountain Goddess wasn’t intimate with.

If only it wasn’t the fact she was just the town Doctor.

"Little Timmy Rogers threw a snowball at me which is currently halfway down my cast melting, but I think I’ll survive."

"Jazz." Tiffany fixed a hard stare on her and the casted foot now sticking out from under the table.

"Joking, joking," Jasmine instantly grimaced, "I know plenty more than anyone else about keeping casts dry in this weather.

"Anyway," She looked to quickly change the subject, seeing Tiffany’s sour expression didn’t lift, "Someone mentioned celebrity closet Chimera?"

"I think I’ve nailed it this time," Cassandra immediately rose to the invitation with a conspirative glance around the table, "Michael Jackson!"

There was a reflective silence around the table and then finally a burst of laughter all round before Jen spoke up, "It would certainly explain a few things!"

As Jen excused herself to the bar, Jasmine clicked her tongue, "Personally? I’m not convinced, he was a bit quirky, but he wasn’t a Chimera-"

"Nonono, think about it," Cass was almost leaning over the table toward the fox, "Slave kid makes it good as pop sensation, big label buys his contract and all’s great until the stage accident when he catches fire-"

"And you think something happens, so they replace him with a Chimera clone?" Tiffany added to the speculation.

"Yeah! A real rush job one for his new tour, it wouldn’t be the first time a Chimera failed quality contro- oh." Cass caught the glare Tiffany threw her, looking apologetically to Jasmine, "Sorry, I didn’t mean-"

"Don’t give it a second thought, there are probably more Chimera with Osteoporosis out there than human these days," Jasmine just laughed it off, waving a cast covered hand dismissively, "Plus, I think ‘Robot Chicken’ had this joke already."

"Robot wh-"

"Don’t let her get started," Jen cautioned with a grin, placing down the groups drinks, including a frosted soda bottle in front of the grateful vixen, "I hear this all week long in the office already."

"Wh-"

Cassandra didn’t get to finish a second time when Jasmine spoke up, gripping the bottle gingerly with the casted hand and working away on the cap with the other, "My Geek corner.

"So I like cartoons and stuff, nothing wrong with that."

"Jasmine, I’ve been giving house calls in Tuaq for ten years," Tiffany picked up her own drink, "And I can say with confidence, you own more toys than all the kids in town put together."

Jasmine stuck lips to the bottle mouth to try and give herself something to do than be embarrassed by the idea, but yes, she had a fairly impressive collection on display on her work desk if she did say so herself.

She took a moment to reflect, then finally withdrew a vaguely cheetah shaped robot from her purse, placing it on the middle of the table on display for all to see, "I try my best."

Cassandra glanced at the tiny transforming figure with the same disdain a child displayed at the tangerine that had snuck into their Xmas stocking, "How do you do that?"

"Oh, well, it’s not so easy one handed, but first you need to shift the head down into the chest, then his gun clips on underneath to hide his stomach-"

"No, no, I mean..." She looked around the table as if she were about to break taboo, whispering onward, "You’re a slave, right?"

Jen fell back into her chair with a slump where Tiffany pretended to look bemused.

"But you’re always here with us, or out at the movies or buying stuff," She grabbed the toy up and waved it accusingly, "I thought you were putting money past for your mortgage, but your owner gets the rest of your earnings!"

"Uh-huh..." Jasmine rolled slowly. It wasn’t uncommon practise, any slave - human or Chimera – was entitled to a percentage of the earnings they would normally make, with many enterprising banks willing to lien a mortgage to them to buy their own freedom.

Until that day, Good Ole Jay used her to do the work of three fully paid office workers and would net the savings for however many years to come. Who said slavery was a dying trade?

"You haven’t been... Moonlighting, have you?" Even if Cassie’s tone was full of only concern, it didn’t stop Jen or Tiffany suddenly wincing.

Jasmine calmly set her drink down and flashed a smile to Jen, just a quick reassurance before she gently plucked her toy back, "Yes and no..."

She began shifting the toy’s shape in the palm of her good hand, "I put a little money by a while back after I found another Chimera on the net whom happens to be rented out to an S&M joint..."

"You hired yourself out to some bondage joint?!" Cassandra near leapt out of her seat, turning more than a few heads in their direction, before Jasmine looked at the girl harshly.

"What? No! She helps run the Bondofox site; I pay her a little to teach me her tricks on web design!" Jasmine shook her head, looking around embarrassedly, "Honestly, don’t look at me like that, Vikki’s a nice girl, good with kids.

"Anyway, I convince Jay to make a premium edition of the paper for folks who want to pay for more content, that I can moderate it for him and boom, I own a domain! Up goes a copy of the site, including a section for my Geek Corner.

"Along with all the benefits to boot it gets me some extra space for me to blog and a donation button.

"I can’t have my own earnings, but as long as I can write off anything I buy as an expense for the site, I have some funds I can play around with."

"Not to mention, you have a few fans, don’t you?" Jen laughed while nursing her glass.

"Mmm! There are a lot of guys out there who love the idea of a geeky fangirl; so as well as some funds for me to play with they’ll send me their toys to do reviews in the corner," She held up the cheetah she had successfully created, "A nice guy called ‘JTG’ from Canada sent me this one!

"So, I get a little flow from there, combined with a little scrimping and penny pinching... I stretch my weekly food budget the best I can, I use my journalist privileges to review movies at the theater and use all the coupons I can find...

"And I only come out with you guys when I get the free drink offers!" She declared with a raise of her bottle to them, "Here’s to squeezing pennies until Abe Lincoln squeals!"

Cass looked to her fellow women in confusion, "Abe who?"

As Tiffany shot Jasmine a shrug of apology, Jasmine just sighed, chugging her drink down - lack of alcohol or not, sometimes she lamented she’d been birthed in the wrong century.


~~~~~~~~


Jasmine was the last one left at the table now.

She sat alone and watched the other three women all squeezed on the taped together karaoke stage and singing to the dusty cathode ray screen that fed them the lines with which to keep torturing it.

Not that she felt entirely anti-social staying out of the group, considering the stage was only made for one person and the three of them on the pedestal had to hug up pretty close together, it wasn’t the most sensible arrangement for her to leap on up with them.

Although it did look inviting... when had sensibilities getting in her way ever stop her?

She pushed the straw through the ice cubes in her glass and watched them close up straight behind it again, swirling it round while she left her chin propped on her casted hand.

No, it wasn’t practicality that made her hesitate, it was Cassandra’s question: her position among them, not just this little rag tag group of girls out on the town, but her in the workplace, in the town, in this world.

She was a slave but she was making the best of it and doing alright: so why did it trouble her so much?

Sitting at the table alone, going nowhere, just watching as the water settled around her; had she grown so complacent she had stopped making an effort and settled just for this?

She stared longingly at Jen’s mimosa, alcohol content was never a good thing with her, but maybe it wouldn’t hurt to be as merry as the three laughing on stage, she could regret stupid mistakes later, right now she’d settle for a pleasant buzz.

She reached forward with just a tinge of guilt pushed to the back of her head; a sip couldn’t hurt, could it?

She looked at it and then glanced back at the stage rendition of ‘I Love Rock and Roll’, where John had mercifully turned down the volume on the microphones, but it still did nothing for her ears.

"To hell with it," She decided, grabbing the drink in both hands and leaning back.

"Hello."

Jasmine let out a loud yelp, just managing to stop from falling out of her chair, but she didn’t quite manage to stop herself dropping the drink, her broken wrist’s digits slipping on the glass as it tumbled and span, landing with a glittering splash on the floor.

Jasmine shoved her chair back with her good foot almost out of reflex to keep her casted leg away and dry from the mess, she flung her eyes round half in fear she’d just been caught drinking, half in surprise: when had been the last time someone had ever gotten past her Chimera senses to get the drop on her?

She never found the face as the girl immediately dived to Jasmine’s feet, "Sorry, let me get that for you!"

Jasmine blinked in surprise again, mouth open as she tried to turn her head and look at the new voice now currently bent over under the table and rummaging through the glass shrapnel, "Oh, hey, no! Let me get that... It’s just... I’m not used to folks able to sneak up on me like that?"

"It’s fine, no reason for you to have to go back on forth on a leg like that," A hand poked over the tabletop, a faint smell of cinnamon accompanying it.

"Besides," The new girl from the corner stood up and looked at Jasmine for the very first time: she had a wild little mop of hair curled like a question mark; she had flushed rouge cheeks and healthy skin; she had murky brown eyes so deep Jasmine could have gotten lost in them; and she wore a black and silver choker with a name tag hanging it from it.

There it had only one name: Minnie.

She smiled at Jasmine with a jagged little grin, "You looked like you could use a friendly face to talk to."