<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 150%; line-height: 116%;"><span style="color: #FF0000"> Lana Meyer </span></span></div><br/><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #FF0000"> 'Ghost ' </span></div><br/><br/><div style="text-align: center;"><a class="postlink" href="http://i1343.photobucket.com/albums/o793/Galvin_Fugazi/ef83644e-b81e-4c18-a36f-83c777a6137e_zps8d502a8f.jpg">[ img ]</a></div><br/><br/><div style="text-align: justify;">Lana had nearly laughed out loud about the reaction of the kid, but she kept a serious face as if the girl had just stated that parents have no idea about the meanings of nicknames. What they probably didn't have anyway. When the Sergeant greeted her, she looked to his boyish face, but then she couldn't help but laugh. Six year olds could really be funny when they tried to act grown up.<br/><br/><span style="color: #80BF00">"Sowwy about my broffer." </span><br/><br/>Lana nodded seriously and put her hand at her mouth as if she wanted the Sergeant not to hear her.<br/><br/><span style="color: #FF8000">"Under us women, Lilli. I fear men are all like that. They always speak when they shouldn't. There is no way to stop them in doing that." </span><br/><br/>She winked at the young girl conspirationally. It was obvious that the young girl had cried a lot since they had crashed, but maybe they could get her on other thoughts.<br/><br/><span style="color: #FF8000">"How old are you, Lilly? Or may I call you Button? You may call me Ghost then..." </span></div>