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"The head will be good for someone's earring," Lark said, staring at Spencer critically. "No actually," she added, "it's to small." "Ah-greed," Hallie nodded. "I've taught you well, dude." Lark grinned.

"And your head displayed in Times Square...," Hallie murmured, almost wistfully, as she, too, leaned against the side of the truck bed. "And fingers on someone's watch chain...," Lark chimed in brightly.

Lark and Hallie exchanged grins. Hallie's was lopsided, as the left corner of her mouth pulled up higher than the other. "Sure," they said in one voice, nodding agreeably.

"Then we do opposite," Hallie said to Lark, who nodded.

"Ever heard of the Ghost Busters?" Hallie said dryly, jerking away. Lark chuckled and patted Vesta on the shoulder. "You'd be mushed if they came. What's your preferred way to die? Axe or... something else I can come up with?"

No hesitance came from Hallie as she suddenly raised her slackening fist and struck it out, aiming for Vesta's eye. (Your choice if it hits or not.)

"Just don't think you'll get away with making little side comments about my arm," she snarled, her eyes hardening. "I may be one arm less than the two of you," she gestured to both of the girls, "but I can still through a decent punch or two."

Hallie's relaxed gaze turned into one of fury. Even though she couldn't remember how she lost her arm, something - instincts, maybe - made her tense up and her fist raise. "You made her ma-addd..!" Lark said in a sing-song voice, but quickly backed away when Hallie turned the fist to her.

Hallie shrugged, breaking her streak of polite conduct. "I can't remember, honestly. Actually, I can't remember anything of my past life."

( See my last IC post again, I tweeked it a bit. )

Hallie shook her outstretched arm a bit; a clear sign that she expected Vesta to shake it. Wrinkling her pert little nose, she said, "I was in that horrid little orphanage for about five minutes before I ran out the front door. When I saw this truck at a stoplight and the driver hunched over...

The stranger looked Vesta over from head-to-toe, as if trying to decide if she could be trusted. After a moment, the girl stared at Vesta with a cold gray eyes, her gaze seeming to reach into the depths of the other girl's soul- an observation generously provided by Lark. "I'm Hallie," she...

( Trying... not... to... crack... up... Going... to... BWAHAHAHAHA! ) Lark had yelped, too, but in a very different way: "AND YOU CALL ME A LUNATIC!" The hand recoiled for a second, slowly inching down the front of the wooden chest. As fast as it appeared, it was gone... and replaced by a...

( One: Okay. Two: That was a way to enter Hallie, but I'll find another way to do so. ) ( Scratch my last post, then. ) ( Can there be a chest or something along those lines in the bed? )

( I don't know for sure if the ravioli's good in Dallas, so don't hold me to it. ) "I'll take that," Lark said, her eyes brightening like a kid's on Christmas Day. As fast as lightning strikes the ground, a pale hand appeared from under the seats of the truck's back, grabbing Vesta's ankle...

( Hehe, I guess not! . ) Lark rolled her eyes and stood up, brushing herself off. "Thanks," she spat, her fury aimed towards Vesta, "my face was getting tired of air, anyways! It needed to lay on a bumpy floor!" Turning away, she sat next to the bloodhound again, petting it as its drool...

Lark pondered for a moment on what the lower forty-eight was. Then it hit her. "Then Texas, please!" she yelled, the last word muffled from Vesta pushing her out of the way.

"Alright," Lark said with a little nod of her head. "Where are you heading? Is Alaska a little out of your way?" ( That's not where she live(d), just in case you're wondering. )

"First of, where are we?" Lark asked the man. "What city... state... country... so on and so forth." ( That's the point of Lark: she's just flat-out rude. )