“Elijah!”<br/><br/>The outcry of an excited child startled her out of her contemplation, heart hammering a mile a minute as flurried breaths escaped her lips and faded into the night’s cool embrace. Chest heaving, eyes wide, she took a moment to calm herself down, remembering exactly why she didn’t go out alone to areas such as these; Child’s cry or not, you never knew what’d happen in places like these. Those who dwelled were desperate, with nothing to lose, leaving them only to gain from their half-planned schemes against those who made their way into their “homes”, their “cities”.<br/><br/>Her perception of them, anyway, a perception born of<span style="text-decoration: underline">C.S.I.</span>and<span style="text-decoration: underline">Law &amp; Order: SVU</span>marathons.<br/><br/>Another voice rang out, this one deeper, just as happy to see the first voice as the former had been to see him, from the sound of things. Curiosity began to pique as she got up from her bench, and continued to listen, almost unsure of whether or not she should move closer to find the sorce of it, or remain where she was.<br/><br/>More words drifted along the wind to her, words that didn’t sound angry, nor threatening. If anything…they were sweet, kind, especially around the child. Taking a few cautious steps toward the voices, her hands gripped the cool cement of the overpass’s corner, peering about its edge with bright eyes, wanting to find the source of the sound, the source of the contradiction that she heard after what she’d first experienced on her pass through. Blue hues falling on a figure by the fire’s light, a figure that had to have shown up after she’d run through, eager to escape the awkwardness that’d encased her.<br/><br/>The view was obscured, partially by some of the dwellings behind them, partly due to the figures he spoke to, so she focused on the words themselves. And, even if she missed a word here or there, due to sounds from the cars above or others in the lot, what she saw was more than enough to prove he was exactly what she was looking for…regrettably.<br/><br/>It was like…what comfort she’d gotten from the cold wind was gone. It’d led her exactly to what she’d needed to find, to whom she needed to find...and all the breath rushed from her lungs in a flurry of regret. He volunteered at a shelter that owed him favors, he gave money to those that needed it more than he, offered to babysit, grocery shop…<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">…He’s perfect…</span><br/><br/>And, when she got a clear shot of him, her heart dropped.<span style="font-style: italic">…And good looking, too…because, why wouldn’t Mr. Perfect be good looking, too…His life’s likely been so easy, that this little giving back is how he sleeps at night…</span>Chrys tried to justify to herself with a gusto that didn’t fit how she felt. Even as she thought it, the words held no weight, none of the anger she tried to muster toward this man, this…<span style="font-style: italic">Elijah Maddox…</span>The name was filed away, as she ducked back behind the wall, allowing them their final goodbyes.<br/><br/>Now…how did she come across him? He’d looked tired in the last glimpse she’d caught…should she wait? Should she stalk him?<span style="font-style: italic">No, “stalk” is an ugly word,</span>came an annoyed thought.<span style="font-style: italic">“Follow for better understanding”…“Shadow to make sure he makes it home in one piece”…anything but stalk.</span><br/><br/>Then another thought squeezed its way in, reminding her of her own predicament.<span style="font-style: italic">…Can’t figure out where you are without his help…</span>she thought with a begrudging annoyance.<span style="font-style: italic">But how to do this without seeming like it was intentional…or that I was stalking him specifically…?</span><br/><br/>An idea. Darting over the overpass, clambering over the edge of it, rushing across the slowly dwindling traffic, and down the other side, she slowed, quieting her steps and letting out a breath to make sure she didn’t sound like she ran a marathon. Then, hastening forward, she called out, hoping to catch his attention, a concerned look on her face; A look that was partially exaggerated…partially real, if only because she couldn’t figure out where she was and where she’d turned to get home.<br/><br/>“…Um…Hello?” Chrystal called out, trying to half-jog toward him to close the gap, but still remaining hesitant, coat drawn tightly about her in a "protective" sort of layering, as most who were cold and guarded would have done.<br/><br/>He was a stranger, after all…decent women didn’t run up to the first stranger they saw…by an overpass…alone…to ask directions. “…Sir?”