<div class="floatleft">(http://i183.photobucket.com/albums/x111/Lammy519/Models/Girl20/23456gfd.jpg)</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 12pt;"><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: arial;"><strong>Name:</strong> Natalie Strachan<br/><strong>Title:</strong> The Hacker<br/><strong>Location:</strong> Foulweather Bluffs<br/><strong>Tags:</strong> Ryan Mercer</span></span><hr/>It was far too easy to get lost in the scenery of downtown Seattle. The reds, whites, and yellows of the city lights casting itself on the night sky was hard to tear away from. She couldn't figure out what was doing it, but the picture was always changed by something. It was subtle, like a car entering her vision, maybe. It really didn't make sense, but it was an answer nonetheless and Natalie was a big fan of those. With a sigh, she turned around on her heel to face the parking lot again, this time lost in the headlights of the cars rather than the almost peaceful collection of lights miles away.<br/><br/>As soon as her eyes adjusted, Natalie immediately caught sight of The New Guy walking toward her. She began to panic. Not visibly, of course, but her insides jumping this way and that, the alarms in her head pounded. She did very well with people she's known for a long time, but it's always the first (ten) meetings that made the young blonde uncomfortable and awkward. A lot of guys found that cute, but it was absolute murder for her. Words never come easy; there's no such thing as steady conversation deeper than small talk, it was all plain awful. <br/><br/>Natalie closed her eyes for a few seconds, hard, before opening them wide again. She lost him in the lights, but he soon appeared again, much closer than before. She cursed at herself before taking a very, very forced casual stance against the fencing behind her. "<strong>Hey Ryan,</strong>" she started, her tone the furthest thing peppy and welcoming. Bringing the sleeve of her right hand over the same fist, Natalie coughed into it, as if that would suddenly make her sound like the confident, bright young woman she appeared to be. <br/><br/>"<strong>Er, sorry. I think I had something in my throat. I don't know. Do I still sound like a bag of shit?</strong>" Cursing always made things easier.</div>