<em><strong>"Tea?  No, I didn't wanna go snooping too much.  That'd be rude.  I prefer green herbal tea if you have it, but any tea will do."</strong></em><br/><br/>Jenna took a seat on a bar stool across the counter from where Frank would be in the kitchen fixing their tea.  It wasn't terribly rude just to expect him to fix the tea.  After all, he invited her in, he's the host.<br/><br/><em><strong>"So, tell me about yourself.  How old are you and what happened to your leg?"</strong></em><br/><br/>Jenna had found that pretty girls can get away with asking personal questions, that boys will freely volunteer information to pretty girls who ask, where they might respond with more of a suspicious "why do you want to know?" attitude if someone less pretty were asking.  Could it be they like talking about themselves, hoping something they say might impress the girl?  No doubt.<br/><br/>She was picking up some rather ... interesting ... vibrations from this one.  Though far from handsome (very far, in her opinion) he wasn't totally repulsive, and Jenna thought she might have some use for him.  And if not, she might just do something to break his heart, cripple him permanently, and move on.  That might provide an afternoon's amusement for her.  She was in no hurry, though.