Micah blinked as the girl protested her unruly hair.<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">Do I look like someone who carries around a bowtie? </span>He wondered to himself as he watched her.  He considered asking, but had second thoughts as he recalled the actual contents of his pockets.  Resigned to the oddness of his situation, he pulled a pocketknife and a length of heavy green cord that was meant to be a new bootlace from his pocket.  Cutting a piece from the end, he wordlessly offered it to her.<br/><br/>â€œIâ€™m ex-military,â€ Micah provided a half-lie, watching as she tied back her hair.  A touch of regret he didnâ€™t have to fake colored his voice.  â€œDischarged on injury a couple of years ago.â€<br/><br/>He shrugged before adding as an afterthought, â€œI can handle a weapon.  Heavy lifting, bodyguard workâ€¦  Iâ€™ve done most anything.â€