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"Oh, my little girl's all grown up."

"Da, I've been grown up," Aine replied, staring into her phone's camera as she dragged her suitcase through the airport in Harper Rock. "For about four years now."

"You look so much like your ma," the man on the phone, Brian O'Connor, said quietly, as if he didn't intend her to hear. But it was a constant, from her da, from Nana Muirne, from Papa Daniel. Even Gramma Aoife commented on it occasionally, when she was lucid. "Siobhan would be so proud of you, little Aine."

"I know, Da. I just want to be my own woman, though." That was why she'd left Limerick. To become independent, away from the memory of her mother, her beloved mother. It was constantly a shadow over her. Some of those who knew their family looked at her with scathing glances, as if accusing.

If it weren't for you, Siobhan would still be here, their looks said.

And then there was her brother. Ciaran was married now, with a six-year-old daughter - Aine's niece. She loved little Regan so dearly.

"Your brother wants me to remind you to call him as soon as you get to your hotel room, and not one of these face-chats. He wants an actual phone call from the motel's phone!" Brian was laughing as he said it, as the sound of Regan's voice bubbled through the phone.

"Babysitting, Da?"

"You know it! My granddaughter, my little gariníon," Brian spoke with a dear fondness of Regan, something Aine was used to hearing. He used a similar voice when speaking to his friends of his own children.

"Put her on?"

"Just give me one moment. Regan! Your aunt Aine wants to say hi!" The sounds of shuffling footsteps and gleeful screaming came through the phone, startling Aine slightly, though not as much as if Brian had surprised her with Regan's presence. Suddenly, Regan's cherubic little face, all freckles, blue eyes, and strawberry blonde hair, filled Aine's phone screen.

"Auntie!" the little girl cried. "I miss you soooo much already!"

"I know, little one, I know. I'll visit for the holidays, and I'll bring you some special gifts and all. You be good for your granda and your parents for me."

"Yea, yea!" Regan's infectious laughter bubbled from the phone, even as Aine finally plugged in her headset and made to hail a cab. "Why can't the holidays come sooner?!"

"I'll miss you, Regan. Now, give the phone back to Granda."

"Okay, Auntie. I'll talk to you again soon!"

There was much shuffling about, before Brian appeared on the screen once more. "She's a little firecracker!"

"Yes, Da. I'm gonna let you go. It's cold and I need to fish out my other glove."

"Tomorrow, then!"

Aine ended the video call, slipping her phone into her pocket and pulling her other glove free as she muttered, "Where are all the cabs in this city?"

"That'd be my luck," Aine replied flawlessly, without skipping a beat, as her eyes skimmed over to the man. A slight smirk danced on her features. Don't get yourself in trouble, Aine, she thought, as she rolled her luggage towards him slightly. You're new in town. You don't know if things'll work here the way they do back home.

She certainly looked fresh off a plane. Her clothes were rumpled, hair tangled, but she looked refreshed, like she'd somehow slept well on the craft. It had been an overnighter for her, after all, and to her, it was morningtime. Still, she yawned, eyeing the man's cigarettes. No, Aine, be polite, she reminded herself. No theft attempts at this hour. And in front of the airport. The cops'd be all over you.

"Can I bum one?" she asked, looking apologetic that she was asking. "Ran out before I got to the airport, didn't have time to get another pack."

There you go, be nice. Don't scare him away. The self-talk was a constant, she was always telling herself not to obey the itching, burning, scratching feeling, the tic of desire to take from another person.

It was a constant itch, even when she was alone. It was part of why she ended up being social. Talking tended to curb the itch somewhat, distract it.

So did smoking, really.

Accepting one of the cigarettes, she held it idle between two fingers and skimmed him again. Not really an appraisal of his looks, more of a, what might he have hiding on him?, sort of assessment. She knew it'd be stupid to even try to get into his pockets, but she couldn't help the instinctive studying, the itching of her fingers.

Just a quick check, she thought, fingers itching to check one of those pockets. Just one. Just one! But she held herself back. She told herself that she'd have time aplenty after she got settled in her motel room.

"Nor exactly running from home, more...agreed-upon departure." She was somewhat surprised that running away was his first thought. "Sudden timing, though. Had to be done."

She didn't offer up any more information, her free hand moving as if to dig in her checked bag for matches or a lighter, before remembering. She hadn't packed any.

Lighting the cigarette, she inhaled the smoke, then exhaled with a sigh. No, she wouldn't smell like alcohol - that was her brother's vice. Her free hand slid through honeyed locks as she surveyed the landscape. She'd known Canadian winters were cold and snowy, but she hadn't expected this, not a thick blanket of snow and more falling. Still, she felt she could get used to it.

"Curiosity killed the cat, you know," she replied initially, taking another drag from the cigarette. Yes, she was an open person, but mostly because talking kept her from delving into pockets. Unless she decided someone was a mark from the get-go. Which, clearly, this man wasn't. "But, I suppose, satisfaction brought it back."

And that was the only reason she'd share. Well, that and it was actually kind of funny, how she did it.

"I took a globe, spun it, and using a thumbtack, trailed all over the Northern Hemisphere with my eyes closed until stabbing into the coordinates of the center of this town," she finally admitted. "I know, childish and odd, but it's what I did. Bit more random than throwing a dart at a wall map, too."

She was honestly quite proud of her ingenuity, using a globe instead of a wall map and a thumbtack instead of a dart. She grinned a little smugly.

Looking around the area one last time as she took a drag from the cigarette, exhaling slowly, eyes drifting closed for just a moment. She was alone, a stranger in a new country, a new city. She knew no one, had no one. Loneliness had never been a problem, but she had a feeling homesickness would hit eventually. Probably. Most likely. Shaking her head, she ashed the cigarette, now more contemplative. A bit pensive.

Back home, she'd been an object of gossip and scandal. Wherever she went, knicknacks went missing. Plus the fact that her birth had killed her mother, and there were lots and lots of stares. Uncomfortable ones. Aine had grown used to it from an early age - but what child should have to?

That was the major reason. She'd finally had enough of being stared at, being gossiped about. She was done, and no one couldsay anything otherwise. Taking another drag, she opened soft blue eyes and looked over at him. Blonde lashes half-curtained her gaze, before she spoke again.

"Know any good and cheap motels?"