[JASMINE]
  
   They say that a good drink leads to a bad morning, where I come from.

You get what I mean.

I had a bit too much to drink, last night.

And if I had toned it down, I would have been able to avoid this.

Imagine a woman at the bar. Casual clothing, long black hair and deep brown eyes. A tattoo of the devil on her shoulder, drinking the night away.

She needs a ride home. Nobody in that bar is someone who she knows, so she walks up to a stranger.

The man had scars lining his face, wearing a military-printed jacket over a black shirt and a pair of ripped blue jeans. He was armed.

"What do you want, ma'am?" he asks. "I can buy you another drink, if you want." He chuckled.

"Nope, can you drive me to this address?" I answer, handing him a slip of paper.

He read it over, and looked at me. "Asking a stranger to ride you home? Reckless of you, doll."

I grinned. "It's my calling card, being reckless. And, my name's Jasmine. Jasmine Grey."

"Chorís," the scar-faced man said.

"Sounds Greek." I noted.

"It is, how'd ya know?"

"I was obsessed with everything Greek in a young stage. I had read Percy Jackson."

He chuckled.

"See, we aren't strangers anymore, C," I said to Chorís."

"C, huh?"

I nodded. "Now, I gotta get back home. And if you end up killing me instead, that's okay, I have no family of friends around here anyway."

His grin faded for a bit, but it came back. "Well, c'mon miss."