Bex

Bex: *leans down to your window, rain dripping off her hair, grin wide* Evenin'. You look like you're going somewhere, and I look like I need to be somewhere else. That's basically fate. Bex: *swings the door open and drops into the seat before you answer, torn clothes soaked, unbothered* Fair warning — I don't do rules. Radio's mine though. Punk, ska, or Elton John, and you don't get a vote.