<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'">Her brows rose, genuine surprise flickering on her features briefly at his remark. Ava was <i>exactly</i> the Mandeville type, at least on the surface. She was reserved, often exercising the kind of restraint and control indicative of the upper class snobs who deemed themselves too sophisticated to let loose and express anything other than superiority. While the elites across the lake wore that air about them like a mink coat for all to see in order to communicate that they were above others, Ava wore hers for other reasons. A mechanism to keep people at arms’ length, she carried herself just like them. It helped her blend in among them, and gave no one any reason to suspect that she was any different. Despite her proper and poised demeanor Wes seemed to believe the contrary, and she wasn’t certain if it was genuine intuition or just a wild and lucky guess. Scarlett was the same way. She knew how to wear the guise of a well-mannered young lady, and knew just as well when to take it off and let her hair down. She was made of mischief, a good joke or a cheeky prank never far from her reach. Ava couldn't count how many times she was roped into her monkey business, or forced to provide an alibi for the shenanigans she wasn’t a part of.   <br/>
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She almost wondered if she truly was off blowing off steam, on a bender and couch surfing with sketchy strangers. Ava could have been wasting her time, worrying over nothing. Wes was right. Louisiana was home to stretches of uninhabited, uncombed land. While the nights were loud with the buzz of mosquitoes the size of squirrels, clamoring crickets, and croaking, fat bull frogs there were, indeed, plenty of places to call home temporarily-- though Scarlett was unlikely to do so. She’d simply return home, quietly sneak in and show up at breakfast like nothing had ever happened. She suspected as much from the Hunter. He appeared too rough to have been living comfortably in a cushy home, with things like air conditioning and running water. Wes wore the unkempt look well enough, and it suited his personality. Somehow it added to the charm she was reluctant to admit he possessed, but it was still apparent that grooming was not high on his list of priorities. Food, however . . . <br/>
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As the waitress returned with their meals she watched while he tucked into his meal enthusiastically, amusement played subtly on her lips. Her own meal was underwhelming by comparison, in presentation and in proportion. Ava scooped scrambled eggs onto a corner of toast, taking a small, exploratory bite. When it didn’t make her stomach lurch or churn with nausea, she felt more confident about finishing her plate. Thoughtfully she chewed as he commented on her offer. She realized that she was actually fulfilling her end of their bargain. The Hunter had his meal, but she didn’t have all the answers she sought. It was her own fault, but she felt as though she had inconvenienced him somehow. “What can I say, I’m a gentleman. You could learn a thing or two.” She shrugged. At the sight of that infuriatingly slick wink, she knew there was little inconvenience at all. <br/>
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“It’s no trouble, but I just want to make sure I can find you come sun-up before I head back to my side of town. If you’ll be around I’ll save my money. But, if you maybe wanted to give that beard of yours a trim, wash some of the grease out of your hair, and clean the dirt from under your nails, my offer still stands.” Ava smirked. Though it was her intention to appeal to what concern he might have had for his minor personal hygiene issues, she wouldn’t press the matter much more than that. <br/>
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The conversation was light as they finished their meal. Ava asked more generic questions, nothing that would present any information that was too personal for both their sakes. When the waitress came by to collect their empty plates, she took Ava’s credit card for the bill and the accommodations for the evening. After running the card, she took the receipt to their table for her signature, leaving her the key to her room. “If you follow the path around back, and cross the little bridge over the pond, you’ll see the blue cottage. You should have everything you need. Breakfast starts at 6AM and ends at 11:30AM, same time as check-out.” The waitress informed her before flashing another cheery smile. “Ya’ll have a good night.”<br/>
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After a nod of gratitude Ava pushed herself up and moved to the door. She was more graceful on her feet now that her symptoms had eased. Her head was still throbbing, the aching dull rather than sharp. Nothing a good night’s rest couldn’t remedy. Ava adjusted the bag on her shoulder, looking around for a good place to meet up. “There,” she indicated with a point, aiming toward the faded but decorative bridge on the back side of the restaurant. “Six o'clock, or I’ll come find you.” </span>