He bit into his lip nervously when she spoke, feeling his blood rushing to his face. Dammit, why did he have to blush now? Hopefully his whole head didn't take the color of his hair (what it, fortunately, didn't - despite his thoughts, his cheeks were just slightly red).  "That's good, right? You look just like I imagined you... And don't worry 'bout the hair, you still look better than me after training!"<br/><br/>He took a deep breath, staring at her with the interest of an awed kid, before gathering the courage to speak up again. "So... West Virginia you say? Greetings from San Francisco, and send the rain, if you can, cause its boiling hot here." he joked, scratching his head and moving his ponytail up. It was different than chatting to his friends. Less rude and less vulgar, to say the least - and, most important of all, on the other side wasn't another scruffy head on a tattooed neck, but a pretty girl. A little bit nerdy, yeah, but he didn't mind that one bit. Those girls were usually much nicer than the 'hot' ones - at least they wouldn't flirt with you  just to borrow your bike.