All Eight could think about was the container in her back pocket, the contents within. The idea of something to take the edge off. Surely, a quick nip would definitely calm her nerves. She very nearly excused herself to the restroom where she could indulge in privacy without her new fare being any the wiser⊠until she remembered that most people could smell it on a personâs breath. The last thing she wanted to do was scare away a potential under-the-table client. That was where the real money was. And considering sheâd taken the past few months off of work, her savings were pretty low. She needed this. She needed him. She could drink later. Hold it together long enough to make this run, and then duck off into an alley somewhere for a quick swig. Warm the belly. Soothe the nerves. She was rationalizing this to herself when she became aware of his outstretched arm, the object between his fingers.
She hesitated for a moment before reaching out to accept the card, looking down at the number. The corner of her mouth briefly twitched into a near smirk as she examined it. Simple card. Plain. Just the number. It wasnât much different from her own, except sheâd chosen to utilize the infinity symbol to represent her name. Hers was plain and vague, the symbol and the number, and his was similar, with only the number. Though sheâd never seen it before, it was a card she recognized. It was the card of a person who stuck to the shadows. A person who kept to the edge. A person who dealt in secrecy and dark-room negotiations. While appearing to keep her attention on the card, her eyes flicked to the side to study him through her lashes. He probably had a weapon on him. Probably more cash than sheâd see in a lifetime. His work was most likely dangerous and had probably resulted in at least one grievous injury at some point.
Eight pursed her lips as she turned her eyes back to the card, lost in her thoughts. While most people might be put off by the thoughts that Eight just entertained about the mysterious stranger beside her, they seemed to relax her. Sheâd always made a game out of imagining lives for her passengers â names, occupations, hobbies, interests, secrets. It made the random faces more interesting to her. Most of the time, she was wrong. While sheâd associated the relatively blank business card with the darker and seedier aspects of Wing City, it didnât mean that she was right. But in a way, she hoped she was. Once again, that was where the money was.
The business card had the same effect on her that she had been hoping that a drink would. Her nerves calmed down. She looked up to the cab waiting outside the diner with less trepidation. More confidence. The woman who had entered the diner shaky and pale, distracted and upset was gone. Her back straightened, her chin lifted, a gleam entered her eye that betrayed shrewd thinking. She was Eight McShane, a twenty eight year old Wing City cab driver who spent half of her time driving legitimate fares around town and the other half carting around those with less-than-kosher intent. She needed the money, and damnit, this is what she was good at.
Tucking the business card into the rear pocket of her jeans (on the side lacking the slight curved bulge), she turned her eyes to him once more and lifted her coffee. Keeping her eyes locked on him for the time it took for her to swallow the remaining coffee, she wondered at him. Time to play her little game with herself. âWell, Mr. Seven Four Three Six,â she started, referring to the final four digits of the number heâd given her. Turning back to the counter, she set the mug down and picked up her keys. Glancing toward the bomber jacket, she grinned. âLetâs get this show on the road.â She stood then, and despite the fact that heâd generously paid for her coffee and pie, she still pulled a few crumpled singles from her pocket and tossed them on the counter. She moved to the door, leading the way. Immediately in front of the door, she paused, glancing out at the cab. A brief uncertainty flashed over her face, but she squashed it quickly. âYour chariot awaits,â she chuckled, gesturing broadly to the rain-soaked sidewalk.