She's a sucker for blue-eyes. Chucky had the most gorgeous baby-blues she'd ever seen when they first hooked up. Wild; so unbelievably alive with joy and malice, they'd made her go week at the knees and weaker in the head. They don't remind her of that, really. They're a different kind of intense; a different kind of oceanic storm. She likes them, thinks they'd probably look even prettier if they welled up with tears, those little lines around his eyes all scrunched up while he begged.

She smiles real wide and leans in to light against the cherry-red, watches it burn to life and looks at Carmy from under her lashes. He's just a kid, really. A little younger than Damian, probably. Less of a poser; less of a waste of space. "Thanks, you're a real life saver."

When she leans away, she eyes him up and down, lingers in on the tight cut of his shorts, the pieces of muscle exposed and taut. The little bits of baby-fat sitting over it all in places, plump enough to sink her teeth or a knife into. He would be a pretty cryer - she's certain of it. "Who do I owe my gratitude too - I wasn't really paying attention when they were naming you all off, sorry - got distracted by the appetisers."