Jennifer tossed her head.<br/><br/>"Headed? home, like I told you, except," she paused, suddenly intrigued with a leaf next to her toe, "I'm not sure where home is anymore." Her voice was strong but quiet as if talking to herself. "Cigarettes will kill you, My Dad died of cancer when he was really young, like 24. My mom was a dancer, but not a ballerina, the uh, other kind. " She set her teeth expecting Ash to make a derisive noise, but he didn't.<br/><br/>"Yeah, I just left that pus pocket of a foster home. So what are you going to do? Turn me in? I won't go back there, ever, I will not stop the bleeding if they come to take me."<br/><br/>She held out her thin arm to expose scars from repeated cutting. "I stopped cutting last year. What difference did it make? No one cares if a foster kid dies, there are plenty more where that one came from. I made up my mind to go find my mom. I know she loves me and is all alone."<br/><br/>Ash was still smoking his cigarette as if he hadn't a care in the world. Jenn shook her head and leaned against the side of the same tree he was leaned against. She propped her flip flopped foot on the trunk.<br/><br/>"So what is a rich kid doing out here looking like he has been working in the garden." she inquired, delicately sniffing the air, " or was it a stable? Rich people hire people like me to do their dirty work so they can lounge around country clubs. Or at least that is what the magazines I've read indicate"<br/><br/>He gave her a wry look.<br/><br/>"I'm not making fun of you or saying that I don't believe you," she was quick to add. She really didn't want to make him mad. Ash was the first person to act like he gave a damn about her conversation in a long time. "I just wondered, that's all."