Fina Handley

*simply* Fina.

Right . . . real name?

*archly* If that wasn't it, what makes you think I'm gonna give it to you now? *it is, in fact, her real name, a shorterned form of Sarafina Handley*

Shoa . . . age?

*eyes flicker for the first time* Twenty. *Actually, she's not quite 18, although she can get away with the lie.*

Appearance? *gives you a once over and smirks*

*blushes hotly and crosses her arms over her chest* I'm spoken for, so you can keep your eyes in your head. Blond, blue eyes, not very tall. *Fina's quite attractive in a stereotypical 'country girl' kind of way. She projects just the combination of experience and naivete to get her in over her head with the opposite sex.*

What's yer story?

*with as much dignity as 62 inches can hold* I'm looking for someone. *She had a brief fling with a man who brought her halfway from Connecticut with him and then disappeared on her. She's still clinging to the belief that she's going to find him in New York.*

Dat da one yer tellin' da bulls?

*blushes again, partly with anger this time* *began her first night in the city on a park bench and was accused by an officer of being a prosititute* I don't have anything to do with the police.

Single tanight, or datin'?

Told you. I'm spoken for. *despite all evidence to the contrary*

Any weapons? Ya drop 'em on da table.

I - *hands over a razorblade, barely knows what to do with it anyway*

What's yer game?

I just wait tables.

Anythin' else we should know?

*firmly* Nothing.