An autograph?  Did he think she was some minor celebrity chasing hussy?  She started to reply, her mouth opening, but he continued to ask where she was from.  An agency?  Order someone from an agency?  What sort of agency let you order some --?  The thought trailed off as realization dawned.  He thought she was a hooker!  Claire sputtered but couldn't gather words before he kept plowing forward with his guesses.<br/><br/>Thankfully he provided the exact words she was looking for.  He walked by scratching himself and she stepped back out of his way lest he actually use that hand to touch her.<br/><br/>This was not at all how she anticipated this first meeting going.  Then again, she'd come into this with no plans for what she'd actually do once they were face-to-face.  In her mind, he was supposed to be overjoyed that someone from the media cared enough to track him down and write an article that could potentially shove him back into the spotlight.  Nevermind that her motives were completely one hundred percent selfish.<br/><br/>Claire squared her shoulders and followed the man outside.  She didn't sit, wanting the bit of extra height she gained from him sitting.  "I can certainly do all those things but the question should be do I actually want to?"  The breeze kicked up and blew strands of her hair across her face.  She raked a hand through it and tucked what she could behind her ears.  "I'm not here to play drinking games with you.  I<i>am</i>here to see if you want to do something with yourself other than drown your sorrows in Budweiser.  But if you'd rather pickle your liver, nothing I can say is going to stop you.  I guess I just figured someone who<i>used</i>to be leading the league in almost every way possible wouldn't be the kind of person to give up that easy."<br/><br/>The challenge had been issued.  She hoped like hell she'd pegged him right and he wouldn't back down from someone poking at his ego.