Sleep hadn't come easily to Jackson, either. The thoughts racing around his head had kept him up for a good portion of whatever was left of the night, so only an hour or two's worth of shuteye had found him before an alarm started chirping from his phone on the end table closest to his head. He started at the thing groggily before pushing himself up from the sofa. The first beams of morning had already started creeping through the big window in the living area. He yawned loudly and scratched at a spot on his head as his eyes moved around the room.

The previous night's events only seemed like a blur at this point. He seemed to remember the kiss and everything that had led to it, but it only felt like a hazy dream at this point. Sure, he wasn't wearing his shirt but he could have just thrown it somewhere out of eyeshot as he'd readied himself for sleep. He noted the state of everything in the living area and noticed that nothing seemed to be in any sort of disarray. That wasn't much of a shock, though: They'd gotten to the hotel rather late, so it wasn't like they were going to have made themselves at home at that kind of hour.

Then something caught his eye. Draped across the arm of a nearby chair was a single, unassuming cotton bra. The rays of early morning light hit it in just the right way that it seemed to glow a much brighter shade of white than it actually was. His eyes widened at the sight of it, and then everything clicked. He groaned and let his face fall into his hands for a moment.

The alarm was still chirping away at its post on the end table. Jackson grabbed at it without looking and almost knocked it off the table. He picked the thing up, flipped it open quickly, and silenced the alarm. There was a text from Ralph waiting for him.

How's it going, Biggsy?

Jackson read the text and re-read it again. He huffed out a breath and hit the button to dial his employer as he forced himself off the couch and made his way towards the kitchen.

"Ralph Carson."

"Hey, boss," Jackson replied. An industrial sized coffeemaker sat out on the counter next to the sink. Next to it, a basket was strategically placed with an assortment of different styles of coffee and a small stack of coffee filters. He grabbed at the darkest looking mix and went to work at brewing up the strongest batch of coffee he could muster.

"Jax," Ralph replied with a chuckle. "I'm awfully glad to hear from you. How're you holding up?"

He paused for a moment as the kiss fast forwarded through his mind all at once.

"Biggsy?"

"Is that daddy," Alexcis squealed from somewhere off to the side.

"Yes, honey," Ralph chided. "Gimme just a second to talk to him, and then he's all yours. I promise." Jackson could have sworn that he heard Alexcis' angry huff from there, which brought a small smile to his face. "Talk to me, Jax."

"I fucked up, Ralph," Jackson sighed as he dumped the coffee packet's contents into the filter. "I really fucked up."

Jackson recounted every detail of their previous night to Ralph, he only sat in stunned silence on the other end of the line. He finished up with finding Marloes' bra just a few moments ago. Everything was still a blur to him, but that was evidence that just couldn't be looked over. He grabbed the pot of coffee and poured it into a Hotel Indigo mug nearby and just stared at the liquid for a few moments.

"Whoa," Ralph finally said. "That's...that's something, I guess."

"You're fucking right it's something," Jackson continued. "And not a good something, either."

"Was the kissing that bad," Ralph asked.

"Kissing," Alexcis asked. She was a lot closer to the phone this time.

"Uh," Ralph stammered, "I mean missing. Was the missing that bad?" Alexcis didn't say anything else, but Jackson could just about picture the confused look she'd be sporting at that statement. "Go get ready for school, honey."

"I mean," Jackson replied, "of course it wasn't. It was great. Amazing, even. That's not my problem, Ralph. My problem is that I've got a job to protect this girl, not to inspect her tonsils with my tongue."

"Fringe benefits," Ralph continued.

"Fuck off," Jackson said, stifling a chuckle. "What do I do, Ralph? Her family was basically paying me to make out with her last night. I feel like some sort of...pseudo-prostitute. It's weird."

"Look," Ralph continued. "As your boss, all I can tell you is not to let it happen again. It's not technically a breach of contract, but you're also not exactly on solid ground, morally speaking."

"Yeah," Jackson resigned.

"As your friend, though," Ralph said, "I think it's within my bounds to give you a high-five when you get back. You've been sitting on the bench for far too long, Jax. Maybe it's time you get back on the field and show that world what Jackson Biggs is capable of."

"Once again," Jackson replied, "fuck off."

"Fine," Ralph continued, laughing. There was a pause for a second. "Shit, Alexcis has to be at school in ten minutes. I'll have her call you when she gets out of school, Biggsy."

"Tell her I love her very much," Jackson said quickly.

"Will do," Ralph replied. "Get home soon, Jax."

The line went dead. Jackson pulled his head away from the phone and stared at the thing for a few moments. A whole new slew of thoughts started speeding around his head and he flipped it shut and slid it back into his pocket. He picked up the mug and took a long drink from its contents. He heard footsteps from behind him.

"Good morning," he said. "How'd you sleep?"

She wasn't entirely sure when the switch had turned on, but somewhere in the middle of grunting over her exploits on TV and hearing the reminder of the very attractive gentleman under her spell for the entire day, Marloes was ignited like a ray of sunshine on someone who was usually not a morning person.

Before she'd entered the living area and aside kitchen makeshift, Marloes had placed her phone in to the plug-in charger and turned on the bluetooth. Apparently, in a suite like this, that was made for the younger crowd, there are bluetooth speakers in to the apartment.

With a sly grin, the apartment became a smooth machine of music. Marloes folded Jackson's shirt on the side of the bed (which she had not re-made. That's what staff are for) and reached for a towel from the clothes rack produced for guests. She wrapped her torso in the well-sized towel and began to 'dance' out to music through the entry way.

Maybe he'd greeted her, and if that's the case, she didn't hear it. Her mind, body, and soul was lost. Hopefully, he would appreciate 90s music. He was a teenager around that time, too, right?

Grooving through the living room and to his side in the towel, she giggled and then began to lipsync to the lyrics of Marky Mark and the Funky Bunch. Near the end of the first verse, she sang out, "It's such a good vibration! It's such a sweeeeet sensation!" And then pointed at him to 'catch' the next lipsync. Whether or not he was awake enough to reply, she kept dancing and laughing her way around him, took a sip of his coffee from his mug, and then moonwalked to the best of her ability to the song back into the bathroom connected to the living room. Shortly after, the shower kicked on, and there echoed the lyrics again, "It's such a good vibration! It's such a sweeeeet sensation!"

---

Her shower took about twenty luxurious minutes. If he allowed it, her phone would have continued down a streak of Google Play Radio to the tune of 90s Hits. If not, she would simply choose to dance with whatever he provided. If she chose to turn everything off, she would begin to carry her own tune -- which for the record, was a talent that autotune had no part of as proof of this moment.

With damp hair spilling over her shoulders, she wrapped the towel around herself again and tip-toed out to the living area.

"It's going to be a whole day -- you promised. Are you ready?" She beamed. "Lesson Two: Say 'Yes' all day. I'll be keeping tallies!"

She spun around, dancing to the beat (either on the speakers or her head), humming along as she picked up her various clothing items and wandered back in to the bedroom to change in to them. When she returned, her cap and wig had returned and she mockingly walked out to the style of Sally from Grease, grinning like mad. "Ready?"

---

Stepping in to the elevator, she turned to Jackson with a purposeful smirk. "There's a good chance you're about to get your first go at paparazzi with me. -- Well, without my mother around. If they ask you any questions due to any leakage from our friend Charles, I can't tell you what to do... But I'm going to eat it up. The tabloids don't know what to do with themselves if they don't have some half-assed story to pull out of no where. Besides, only we know the truth. It's like being hidden within public view."

Bouncing on the balls of her feet inside of the sneakers, Marloes held the stance of a mock boxing impression. "Let's do this." The doors open.

No one in the world could tell them from Adam. There was no one at the elevator, no one with an oversized camera in their hand, and no microphones thrust in to their faces. She looked around the corner towards the entrance for any evidence of a crowd. No dice. She laughed, shrugging at him, "I guess we got lucky!" She would definitely be sending Charles a present.

Through the lobby and out the door, Marloes was heavily mistaken. From the bushes and the sidewalk surrounding, cameras and flashing lights emerged and caught her by surprise. Fucking Charles. Fuck his gift basket.

Jackson seemed to spring in to action as if he were born for this, covering her immediately with his arm and rushing her through the crowd towards the nearest - and already prepared at the stop - taxi cab. Opening the door, she was thrust in to it with Jackson jumping in after her. The cabbie turned over the shoulder, "Where to, Miss? Sir?" Marloes laughed, catching her breath and smoothing the wig off her hair and releasing her actual hair from the cap. "So much for that disguise..." She winked at Jackson, choosing to lighten the best of rays. She was a lighthouse in this moment, not only searching for his fun side, but also hoping to light up whatever serious and always prepared world he lived in.

She barked the name of her bank with a giggle to the cabbie and then rolled down the window on Jackson's side to wave to the paparazzi, "Have a great day!" as they pulled off.

Once settled for certain into the cab, she nudged shoulders with Jackson. "Welp. We've got a choice. We allow the world to know where we are at any point, and I don't where a disguise, or we remake Valerie in to a brunette or a blonde and buy you a tupee!"

---

"Sir. It's been confirmed. She was at the Indigo Hotel under the psuedonym Valerie Addams." A voice of youth, of precision.

"Add it to our list of searches in the Boston, Massachusetts area." The baritone of order.

"Yes, sir. Do you want me to deploy anyone?"

"Let's give her a few hours. She'll need money soon, and no doubt, she'll use her card over and over. She's not the brightest bulb in the shed."

A third voice, feminine, joined the pair. "..No. No, she isn't."

"Welp. We've got a choice. We allow the world to know where we are at any point, and I don't where a disguise, or we remake Valerie in to a brunette or a blonde and buy you a tupee!"

Jackson laughed out loud, though his eyes stayed pinned to the window as he watched for any more unwanted paparazzi attention. "How about some sunglasses and a baseball cap," he countered. "Like any other normal celebrity. Besides, I kinda like redheads." He froze for a second, berating himself internally. "I mean, I like red hair. Not, like...I'm gonna shut up."

"Probably a good idea, pal," the cabbie added.

"Shush, you," Jackson continued. He finally turned to meet Marloes' gaze. "I can handle paparazzi and crazed fans. Besides, you're not that good at the incognito part." He smiled, as if to punctuate the already playful jab. He let his eyes fall back to the passing scenery.. "So...uh...should we talk about last night?"

"Ohhhhh. Hot for teacher today, are we?" She elbowed him with his comment on red hair. My red hair, the thought.

"A baseball cap. What team? It's very important to support the local team, but I'm an Angels fan. Is it still sacrilegious to have that up here?"

"So...uh...should we talk about last night?"

As his eyes went to the window, Marloes' returned from it and watched him carefully. She was committed to a good day, and while her nerves set off at the question of last night, she refused to let it drown out her joy. She reached out a hand, tracing the veins hardly seen on the back of his left hand with her fingertips.

"Is there something on your mind?" She let out a soft chuckle, shaking her head at her own stumbling over the topic. "I mean, obviously there is. What's up?"

Jackson finally turned back to her. His eyes fell softly on her hand as she traced lines across his skin. "Well," he said softly. "It was absolutely amazing, for one. You are...very good at what you do."

The cabbie chuckled and stared at them both through the rear view mirror. Jackson slid the plexiglass divider shut on the man. It wasn't going to do much to cut down on their conversation, but at least it would do something.

"Anyway," he continued, "I'm really conflicted. On the one hand, there's you and that kiss and everything. On the other hand, there's my job and that steady paycheck that your mom pays me to keep an eye on you. I really, really enjoy every one of those things."

Jackson looked down at her. He flipped his hand over and laced his fingers through hers. "I just don't know where it came from," he said. "Was it just a product of being overtired? Was it something else? Will it happen again? Should it happen again?"

He stopped for a moment. He brought her hand up slowly and gave it a small kiss. "That was lame, right" he finally asked. "Sorry. I've just...got a lot of questions."

Marloes offered him a smile as he spoke, and the more he voiced his concerns, the wider her smile. She let him talk himself in a circle, for the most part, before ever parting her lips to speak.

Then he kissed her hand, a delicacy that was per norm a facade at grand parties with millionaires. It not something that people, for lack of a better word, who were "common."

"Lesson Three: Let it Be." She offered, winking at him. She slid over to sit closer to him, patting her free hand over their laced fingers. "For today, let it be. Find your answers tomorrow."

---

The time in the bank did not take that long. Within half an hour, and after various forms of identification seeing as her withdrawal was a sum of money not usually requested by cash, Marloes stepped out and back in to the taxi. The cabbie had waited for her and Jackson to return, nicely enough. Or, perhaps he figured he'd get a decent tip since she had the money to spend.

"Okay. So, it's almost nine o'clock on a Friday. Do you think the Boston Public Library is open, yet?" After a moment of his look, she blinked. "What? I'm serious."

"I just never took you for a public library kind of girl," Jackson replied. He turned his attention to the front of the cab. "Is the library open yet, boss?"

"Should be by the time we get there," the man replied as he popped the car into drive and faded into the traffic next to them. Jackson slid back in the seat and reclined his head until he was looking directly at the ceiling of the cab. He sighed out a breath and closed his eyes. The lack of sleep was starting to catch up to him, and he felt sleep tugging at him.

*HONK, HONK*

Jackson jolted upright and his hand fell to the handle of the gun tucked in the waistband of his pants. "What happened," he almost shouted at the cabbie. The man's eyes shot to the rear view mirror.

"Fucker merged without so much as a goddamn blinker," the man shouted back. He rolled down the driver's side window as fast as the electric motor would allow him and hung his head out the window. "How about you watch where you're going, shitbag?!" The driver in front of them responded with a single middle finger held out from their own window. Jackson chuckled to himself and let his hand fall to the seat once more.

There was silence again, save for a few honks and some more angry shouting, this time all from outside the cab. Jackson turned his attention to Marloes. "I don't have a wife, by the way," he said. She turned her head, acknowledging him inquisitively. "You asked if I had a wife last night. Well, you kinda did. Me and Alexcis' mom never got married. She wasn't exactly the marrying type."

"I don't have a wife, by the way," he said. She turned her head, acknowledging him inquisitively. "You asked if I had a wife last night. Well, you kinda did. Me and Alexcis' mom never got married. She wasn't exactly the marrying type."

"Huh." Marloes nodded to him, kinda in and out of thought at the moment. In her pocket, folded in an envelope, was more money than any one person needed at any given time in their pocket short of putting a down payment on a car or, as fate would have it, planning on running away. While it had been her original plan, she kind of liked and almost preferred things the way they were going last night, this morning, and hopefully.. today.

Besides. He was kind of cute, in that way where he was Mr. Macho one moment and then you kiss the poor guy and he suddenly melts in to a hot ball of mess and feelings. Since when did guys have those?

Marloes grinned to herself, but then realized she hadn't bothered responding yet. "Is she part of Alexcis' life? Seems like a you and her kind of team." For the most part, since they'd gotten back in the cab, Marloes' hands had kept to herself. It wasn't her way of showing him she was disinterested more than it was her backing off before she freaked him out further than he'd seemed to be. Besides, it was his job to protect her, and she would be selfish if she were to give in to the feelings of wanting to do much more despite his acknowledgement of 'we done fucked up'.

"I'm sure you already know --" She winked at him, "Because you look like you're up to date on the tabloids, but despite the rumors that Prince Harry and I have a fling on the side, I do not have a wife." And then she smirked. "Or a husband. Or an anything."

"I know you're all kinds of concerned, but don't sell yourself short. On the one hand, you'll have a heck of a story to tell your friends." She didn't let him interrupt, "I know, I know. It's a big deal. Lots of people would pay money to be in your position -- and that's exactly why I'm single. There's hormones, and then there's genuine feelings. How can someone have genuine feelings from a girl they can't get close to -- you know?"

She let out an exasperated sigh, leaning in to her side of the car and slipping her feet in to the seat between them. Her fingers played at the shoe's laces. "This is kind of surreal. Going to the Boston Public Library. Believe if or not, Belle is one of my favorite - if not THE favorite - Disney Princesses and she loves books, so I made myself read just about everything when I grew up because I thought it would impress my dad. But there was never a beast in my life -- well, except.. the kind of life I live. It's.. It's hard to get away from. -- Anyway, I plan on opening a few libraries. Public ones. Filled with my favorite books as a section within alongside the books for educational purposes and light reading. But this library -- the one we're going to -- it's been in movies, and famous for -- I mean, we're really going to be stepping inside of history."

"Is she part of Alexcis' life? Seems like a you and her kind of team."

Jackson shook his head. "Haven't seen or heard from her in a couple of years now," he said quietly. "Probably for the best, though. When I say that she was't the 'marriage type,' what I'm really saying is that she was the 'drinking and partying way too much' kind of type." Those weren't some nice memories he was rehashing, but thankfully Marloes wasn't the kind of person that liked to dwell on one thought for longer than she thought it deserved.

"I'm sure you already know --" She winked at him, "Because you look like you're up to date on the tabloids, but despite the rumors that Prince Harry and I have a fling on the side, I do not have a wife." And then she smirked. "Or a husband. Or an anything."

"I know you're all kinds of concerned, but don't sell yourself short. On the one hand, you'll have a heck of a story to tell your friends." She didn't let him interrupt, "I know, I know. It's a big deal. Lots of people would pay money to be in your position -- and that's exactly why I'm single. There's hormones, and then there's genuine feelings. How can someone have genuine feelings from a girl they can't get close to -- you know?"

"That makes sense," he finally added. "I mean, I haven't had very much time for anything aside from Alexcis and this job for quite some time now. I can't even imagine what it's like to try getting off the bench whenever your entire life is on display for the vast majority of the free world to see." He could see her toss a confused look his way. "That's what Ralph calls it. Getting off the bench, I mean. Tells me all the time that I need to get off the bench and get back in the game."

There was another bit of a pause before Marloes segued into an entirely new conversation once again.

"This is kind of surreal. Going to the Boston Public Library. Believe if or not, Belle is one of my favorite - if not THE favorite - Disney Princesses and she loves books, so I made myself read just about everything when I grew up because I thought it would impress my dad. But there was never a beast in my life -- well, except.. the kind of life I live. It's.. It's hard to get away from. -- Anyway, I plan on opening a few libraries. Public ones. Filled with my favorite books as a section within alongside the books for educational purposes and light reading. But this library -- the one we're going to -- it's been in movies, and famous for -- I mean, we're really going to be stepping inside of history."

Jackson smiled. Hearing her open up like this was something he was almost certain no one else in the world got to see. He was almost positive that even her mother hadn't seen this side of her daughter, at least not in quite some time. He let her finish her rant and let the silence hang around them for a moment.

"I always liked Nala," he replied. "I don't know if she really counts as a full-fledged princess, but that's beside the point."

The cabbie fell away from the traffic in front of one of the biggest buildings Jackson had ever encountered. Okay, maybe that wasn't entirely true considering all the skyscrapers he was usually around in NYC, but it was pretty big. "Boston Public Library," the cabbie said to no one in particular. "Do you want to keep the meter running or what?"

"That's up to the lady," Jackson replied.

As Jackson stepped out on to the curb, Marloes pulled out a wad of cash from the envelope in her pocket. Her eyes darted at the meter, then tipped a decent amount of extra. "Thanks for the lift!"

"Oi, yeah, can I get y'autograph? It's uh.. It's for my.."

"Daughter? Of course."

Once she'd finished signing the receipt of her meter, she handed it to him. "Your famous, now. Enjoy it."

---

Joining Jackson's side on the steps of the grand building, Marloes felt her breath catch. She rocked on the balls of her feet a moment as they stared up in admiration.

"Bucket List Item: Fifty-two." She explained, "Visit s library as big as Belle's."

Threading her fingers in to Jackson's, she noticed a serene amount of.. lacking paparazzi. "Huh. The cabbie didn't blow our cover. That was really nice of him." And off she went, pulling him along at a pace with purpose.

---

Within the library, Marloes caught Jackson's gaze on her, whether it was curiosity or judgment, as she pulled various books off of various shelves. Onr at a time, she picked up the book, opened it to a random page in the middle, and put a $50.00 bill inside and scribed with a pen stolen from the computer desk at the front, The book is richer. Xoxo. Vestige. She did this in five books per section of genre, and by the time she made it to the back - or, the neglected section of the library filled with magazines, newspapers out of order that are laminated, and VHS tapes for rent that no one will check out... she looked over her shoulder at Jackson.

In a whisper, she grinned up at him. "I defaced nearly sixty books in this library. I'm a rebel, nay, a criminal. When I do time and come out, I'll rap about the hard knock life of vandalizing public property."

She chuckled behind a hand, looking around the corners. This section was as deserted as it appeared. "Jackson?"

Marloes bit her lip and looked down, and when she gazed back up, her facade of all assuming confidence didn't join her. She wore vulnerability like a silk gown. "What if I wasn't me? Would you be so anxious, then?"

Her voice, if possible, grew even quieter. "For today, can we pretend I'm not?"

"Jackson? What if I wasn't me? Would you be so anxious, then? For today, can we pretend I'm not?"

Jackson cocked an eyebrow. Something in those words was different than normal. Just seconds before she was her regular, confident, Vestige self, but not anymore. She'd lowered her guard. She'd actually let the Marloes underneath shine out over the mask she usually put on for him and everyone else. It had taken him by surprise, that was for certain.

He reached out and brushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear, letting his fingertips glide slowly across her porcelain skin. He held his hand there, holding the side of her face softly as he looked directly into her eyes. They were so far into the stacks of shelves that the rest of the world seemed so far away from them. He could barely hear the muted sounds of life from deeper within the library. It was almost like it was just the two of them were the only ones in existence in that very moment.

Jackson leaned in slowly and pressed a soft kiss against her lips. He could feel her skin redden under his touch and his kiss. As he broke the kiss, his eyes never left her own. "I couldn't care less who you are," he said softly, "but I'd much rather have you than anyone else in the entire world."

He kissed her again, this time a little more forcefully. She melted into him as they fell back against the nearest shelf of books. His hands dropped to her waist as he pulled her deeper into the kiss.

At this moment, they were talking bodies.

She was certain he'd said actual words, and doubly certain they had been romantic, but nothing spoke to Marloes louder than the fingers at her cheek, the question in his eyes.

Often, we find people in our lives who speak the same body language. It is rare, however, to find someone as fluent as you are in a particular dialect.

Jackson definitely spoke her native tongue. While her lips had protested, denying to give up their turn, their mouths opened up to an entirely different subject, and her tongue began to not only teach him a different song to sing, but listened to the tune already breathing in covered moans and whispers.

Marloes fingers begged for a song, and rose up to press notes in to his neck, holding him as close as possible. The interruption from the crowd -- the bookshelves that became casualties to the stage crowd -- hardly caused either to lose their rythym.

At one point, Marloes was pretty sure her body pressed against his, requesting a deeper topic of discussion between them. But, as any polite person does when they begin to open up too much, to over step an invisible boundary line, she kept it quiet. There was no doubt of the thought between them, but standards and rules need be applied for proper etiquette.

Finally, she pulled away for breath, her forehead against his. They labored in silence for a couple of minutes before she cleared her throat on jest, "You deserve far better than the discord I've put you through thus far. If we only get one day.. and I don't gather you get a vacation often.. where would you go next?"

"You deserve far better than the discord I've put you through thus far. If we only get one day.. and I don't gather you get a vacation often.. where would you go next?"

Jax pressed her into the bookshelf and pressed his lips against hers again. He felt the embers inside of him start to flare up once again and broke the kiss, breathing heavily. He opened his eyes slowly and gripped her hips firmly. "Honestly," he said through the labored breaths, "I can't of anywhere that I'd like to go that isn't a bedroom or a cold shower."

He pushed away from her, though his hands never left her waist. "Besides, we've been doing so well on your whirlwind tour of the city," he continued. "Why stop at the library? We've got the better part of the day. What do you want to do, Miss Bell?"

To say the cold shower was simply a joke would be ridiculous. Even Marloes knew ice would melt to the touch at this point and it had little to do with the weather - or air conditioning units within the famed library. "Let's stay, then. Just a little while longer."

To be honest, she'd had every intention of continuing her rebellious adventure between the shelves, pulling out books and stashing pieces of cash, signatures here and there, notes to no one.. But there was something about the way he held her - No, not only with his arms, but the pressure he applied to her body was not only of longing, but of experience. This was the exciting bit; Not knowing what someone's limits are, testing their boundaries with hopes of avoiding rejection - sorting a resolution once a question rose. Marloes found herself stifling her own joy, eventually slinking from under his arm and pulling the pair of them from their ecstacy.

Every tabloid jested about her experience. What was his?

Fingers locked as if to keep a chain that would never break, Marloes completed her unwritten mission. Upon exiting, a couple of whispers rose with actual tone and inflection until someone broke the murmurs with, "Is that Vestige!?" "What? Where?" "Oh my God, oh my God!!"

With a wave of her hand, Vestige was off in to a sprint with Jackson along with her as a shield from anyone coming at them from behind. She navigated the various civilians on the steps and called out to the cabbie who'd chosen to stay. He was leaning against his cab with a cigarette between two fingers, but upon her shouting, he tossed it aside with a step and slipped in to his vehicle. With Jackson opening the door for her, Marloes dove for the backseat.

She didn't stop laughing for a beat, this time. With Jackson in the seat next to her, even the cabbie could tell her eyes looked at him with a different expression.

"Where now?" He asked after he'd pulled in to the isolation of traffic, looking at the pair through the mirror with a smirk out the side of his cheek.

"You're still here!" Marloes grinned. "Need another autograph?" -- With a nudge from Jackson, she added towards the end, "Oh. Next stop is a home address. 8911 E Merinde Circle. It's outside of the city - but barely so. North and near the shore."

Turning to Jackson, she let out a breath that was hard to catch after their run. "Hungry for lunch?"

"I could eat," Jackson replied, his eyes glued to the throng of people surging towards the cab. Mostly teenagers and twenty-somethings, cameras and smartphones trained on the pair. Jackson flattened out as much as he could, trying to block their view of Marloes. He smiled and waved to a few of them, eliciting eyerolls and raised middle fingers from the people looking to catch a shot of the celebrity.

He squeezed Marloes hand tightly as the cab slipped out into traffic. "Maybe Italian," he continued. "Or tacos. Tacos sound good." He turned to look at her, trying his best to keep the subtlety on full blast as he let go of her hand and let his hand slide to her back, underneath her shirt. "Or...something else. Anything, really."

"Get a room, you two," the cabbie said with a laugh. Jackson's hand shot back to his lap and he gave the cabbie a glare. The cabbie caught the look and just kept on laughing.