<div class="floatleft">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/d/d9/Alexandervalentinepushe.png)</div><br/><hr/><strong>Name:</strong>Alexander Valentine<br/><strong>Faction:</strong>None<br/><strong>Date:</strong>May 3rd, 1876<br/><strong>Time of Day:</strong>Early Afternoon<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Outside of the New Pony Express<br/><strong>Tagged:</strong>Aislinn, Open<br/><hr/><br/><br/><br/>Had Alexander been a different type of man, perhaps one that was always looking down and not paying attention to his surroundings, he would have collided with the woman - girl? - who had suddenly stopped in front of him before snapping a hand upwards. The inventor, however, was ever astute and aware of what was going on around him, his sharp eyes rarely missing anything unless they were closed, the object was in his blind spot, or if the lighting was bad. So a thin brown eyebrow ached slightly as he assessed the woman around her extended hand, his mind started to quickly ponder why she was holding it out to him. He took a slight step backwards so he could right his posture again and readjusted his hat.<br/><br/>He eyed the card again.<em>The Seven of Hearts</em>. Did it mean something? Or was she just an odd one that liked to stop abruptly in front of strangers and hand out cards? His curiosity was getting the better of him unfortunately and Alex resisted sighing as he gave her another quick once over. Her eyes had lifted to meet his just then as he was looking down at her, his bue-greys holding hers unabashed even if she had caught him glancing at her. Alex finally blinked after a moment and he shifted his attention back to the item she held.<br/><br/>"Er, thanks...?" Alex said as he took the card from her, a hint of confusion clear in his tone as his words left him. He turned the card this way and that while he examined it, his thumb flicking the corners until he was left frowning. It was just a seemingly play card from what he could tell. "Is this suppose to mean something?" he asked as he lowered his hand to return the card to the redhead. He made no attempt to mirror her smile, as most people might, and just continued to regard her coolly until she spoke. A tin man, almost. Perhaps he spent too much time held up in his shop with his machines. Either that or he just flat out lacked the social graces that seemed to come so easily to most others.