3353/It Starts With A Stumble

It Starts With A Stumble
Date of Scene:	13 September 2020
Location:	Midtown
Synopsis:	Katsumi arrives in the United States and is found by Nessa Donovan. Things seem fine, until the grappler's legs give out from beneath her in a bizarre and concerning way. Is it jetlag? Is it stress? Or is it connected to a recent blackout?
Cast of Characters:	Katsumi Oshiro, Nessa Donovan

---

Katsumi Oshiro has posed:
A couple hours ago, a jet touched down at the JFK International Airport, carrying a cadre of sports entertainment professionals, all hailing from the Land of the Rising Sun. Among them, Katsumi Oshiro, the Punk Princess. It wasn't the first time she'd been to America. In fact, she's visited and performed at events numerous times through the years. But never for an event this big, this momentous.

The plane ride wasn't a peaceful one. Her mind is a battlefield of mixed emotions; she's elated to be invited on this. It means she's done more than well, and the general manager of the NLWF is putting faith in her to not only do her thing, but to represent Japan with the other small handful of elite. But with it comes to intense pressure to not only meet expectations, but to surpass them. This event will have global coverage. Steal the show, and her career could rocket higher than ever. Screw it up, and it could smash into the ground and never recover. This is the kind of pressure that crunches coal into diamonds.

As if that weren't enough, there's a shadow in the back of her mind, and a voice keeps whispering, "You blacked out. You're not well." She could be sick. She could have some undiagnosed injury from a recent match. But if she sees a doctor, they could cancel her appearance at the event. And then, that's that. Opportunity gone. Is she gambling with her life? Does she have anything worth calling a life without the sport?

She never considered herself a religious person. But she may have already muttered a prayer or two already.

Since landing, she attended orientation, hit the hotel to leave her scant belongings, and promptly ignored the edict to get rest. She's too restless. She needs to see the venue.

And there it is: Madison Square Garden, sparkling under the noon-day sun. It's gloriously huge, and it all but echoes with the spirits of momentous sporting events past. The Japanese girl laces her fingertips through the chain-link fence surrounding the entrance, silky black hair dancing in the breeze, and vibrant green eyes wide. Perhaps perplexingly, the sight of the monolight is comforting.

Nessa Donovan has posed:
The heat of the noon-day sun may enhance the glory that is Madison Square Garden, but it does nothing to enhance Nessa Donovan's mood. Between diner shifts, meddling trickster gods, necromancer souls, and learning to master her own magic... it's a wonder she has time to get out anywhere else. She does, though, and she's out in spite of the sun and dressed unseasonably for it. Long sleeves and jeans cover pretty much most of her skin, her hands in gloves, leaving most of the only exposed area being near her neck. She doesn't, however, draw attention to any of it regardless of any looks she gets. It's her normal and she's used to it.

She moves along, but noticing the woman's attention to the massive structure, she stops to look at it through the chain link fence herself. "You ever been in there?" She asks, idly. "I've only been there once for a concert, but the food's to die for." She gestures with a gloved hand towards it. "I highly recommend it. The food and the building. Tons of history."

Katsumi Oshiro has posed:
"No...," is Katsumi's near-whispered response to the first question. It's true enough. She's performed at other colisseums and arenas throughout the United States, everywhere from Florida to California. But never here. Never in this prestigious venue. It's equal parts exciting and humbling, and just looking at it brings the magnitude of her very near future and what it could mean, all to one central, focused point. It's like looking at the culmination of her life's passion, and all the sacrifices and hard choices she had to make to be there.

'You blacked out. You're not well.' -The shadow in her mind.

Her fingers clamp a little tighter against the chain links and her eyes briefly, but tightly, squeeze shut.

Inhale. Exhale.

When her eyes open again, it's with a small, determined smile. "I'll be making some of that history soon." It's said almost to herself than to the unknown woman nearby.

Of note, her English is very nearly flawless. It's textured in only the slightest Japanese lilt, but easily missed.

Her head finally turns to look at the individual in question. Her gaze flicks from her face to her feet, then back up again, taking her in. It's almost a complete opposite to herself, the stark contrast between an almost aggressive level of conservative fashion versus a nearly daring level of punk chic. "You were there for a concert? Who was playing?"

Nessa Donovan has posed:
"Making history's a good thing," Nessa agrees. "Shoot big, achieve dreams, all that." She grins, gesturing at the building. "That thing's good at making you feel small, though. The amount of people you can pack in there is incredible." She does seem to observe the building for a moment as she recalls the concert. "The Lumineers. A friend of mine got tickets a couple of years back when I was going through a rough period of my life, she thought it'd cheer me up. It did, a bit. Also gave me a serious appreciation of the food service industry."

She looks back at Katsumi, perhaps taking a moment to actually take in who she's talking to on the level of more than just a random thirty-second conversation on the street. "I dig the look, by the way. Fashion's not my strong suit." There's something in her tone that sounds like there's a joke in there, but it won't quite make sense.

Katsumi Oshiro has posed:
That kind of talk might intimidate someone; the idea of shooting big, reaching for the stars, making history. Katsumi seems to languish in it, wrapping the concept around herself like a security blanket. The Punk Princess rotates around, bearing her shoulder against the fence as she presses her back into the links, slightly arched. Casually provocative in posture, eyes lidded at full bedroom status, but not focused on anything in particular. "Mmn, not me," she purrs. "I never feel small when I fight. When my arm lifts, there won't be a quiet voice in the house."

An airy giggle escapes her. She doesn't care if those voices are mostly booing. Just that they're making noise for her.

The comment on clothes seems to snap her mind out of it, however. Oh dear. Blood in the water. The Asian girl leans off the fence, affecting a sympathetic smile. "Oh, don't say that! You look hot!," she encourages, motioning a hand towards Nessa. But the more the gesture lingers, the more it seems uncertain. "I mean.. for a nun, sure! But it's something!"

Exactly two seconds after the statement, that sympathetic smile takes a sharp turn into impishly playful. She's teasing her.

Nessa Donovan has posed:
"Ahh. So you like the power of it? You part of a band or something?" Nessa glances around. "I actually don't know who's playing anytime soon so I sincerely apologize if I'm supposed to know you and ask for an autograph or something. Not really my style anyways." She gives a bit of a shrug. But the comments about the fashion? Thankfully, she's laughing.

"Oh, nonono, don't try and make it sound like a good thing. Nuns at least have a style! You see one walking down the street, you know just what you're getting. You see me walking down the street? Just a little weird. Don't worry, the rest of my wardrobe pretty much looks like this too."

Katsumi Oshiro has posed:
"Hey, boring's a look, too!," lauds Katsumi with a moue of the lips. "And it might not be much, but by God-," she gently thumps her right fist into her left palm for dramatics, "-you're consistent!"

She cuts her a little slack and changes the subject onto what may be her favorite: herself. "What, you didn't hear me say 'fight'?," she chides. "Or did bands get a lot more metal in the USA since I was last here?"

The foreigner takes a few graceful steps backwards before jabbing an index finger against a poster plastered against the awning of a bus stop bench. Upon it is advertised:

        FOUR CORNERS
        OF THE WORLD

        INTERNATIONAL
        PROFESSIONAL
        WRESTLING
        CHAMPIONSHIP

Further details bill it as an extravaganza of international federations clashing together for one night only. Countries represented include the United States, Russia, the UK, and Japan. Beside each one details which federation will be representing their country, as well as the list of names selected from each federation. Katsumi's finger is tapping her own name next to the Neon League Wrestling Federation's listing.

"Now are you gonna play it smart and make some easy eBay money, or are ya gonna keep aloof?," she lilts, that impish smile back in full swing.

Nessa Donovan has posed:
"I'm trying to go for a modern Victorian look: the less ankle you show, the sexier it is," Nessa seems completely at ease with the joking, a broad grin on her face. "I'm no musician, but I've been around enough of them to know that some people have interesting mentalities about their work. Someone dressed punk and talking about fighting? I usually think either music or more of an 'against the authority' sort of fighting." She turns to check out the poster.

She tilts her head to the side to studying. She looks between the poster and Katsumi, and then back a few times. "Yeah, I'm gonna go with aloof. Kind of my thing. But that's actually really cool. I can't imagine going in front of a crowd that big and doing /anything/."

Katsumi Oshiro has posed:
The longer Nessa takes to react to the poster or presence of a wrestler, the more Katsumi starts to look annoyed. First, there's a slight lidding of her gaze. Then a crease at the bridge of her nose. Then that button nose crinkles, and lips start to twist, and- ah! There's the reaction.

Her refusal of an autograph gets an open, animated scoff, and Katsumi lets her arm drop to her side. "What, you hate money? Is that why you're dressed like math class?"

Katsumi slips forward with the sort of casual confidence that suggests profound physical control; a measured and exact breezy swing of the arm, and gentle sway of the hip of catwalk quality. It's certainly the product of performance, now turned second nature, all condensed into the two seconds it takes to close the distance to Nessa. "I'm just f***ing with you," she relents, her smile brighter and more pleasant, despite the off-handed profanity. "You ever go to /any/ wrestling show?"

Nessa Donovan has posed:
"No, it's because I am so powerful I must contain it for risk of the general populous being injured," Nessa says with a wry smile, one filled with an abonormal amount of amusement about what she's saying. "It's more like I'm too lazy to set something up on eBay anyway. Trust me, I don't hate money. Plenty of things I hate, money's not one of them."

She studies Katsumi carefully, as if trying to assess her wrestling skills just by a once over. "Not really. Not a live one, anyway, and certainly not enough to have any idea what any wrestling term means, so don't quiz me on that."

Katsumi Oshiro has posed:
That button nose crinkles again. "Egh, a normie." But her disdain breaks with an easy giggle. Her hands link together behind her back, her stance going a little wide as she begins rocking gently on her heels. "So you don't hate money, but you're too lazy to eBay someone's autograph to rake in some effortless cash." Her head turns slightly to the side, presenting Nessa with an analyzing peer. "And you've watched wrestling, you know there's a huge thing about to happen here, and you're talking to a headliner, but you're standing around like a sphinx."

Her left arm remains behind her back while the right lifts, placing her index finger along her cheek in an animatedly obvious 'I am giving this a lot of thought' manner. It's almost certainly just for theatrics. Most things seem to be with her. "I can't decide whether you're /painfully/ boring, or if there's something else going on under there..."

Nessa Donovan has posed:
Nessa's grinning. "Well, maybe lazy's the wrong word. Too busy and then too lazy after that to find the energy to do anything more." She rests a gloved hand on her hip, still looking amused. "Painfully boring sounds like a paradise," she insists. "There are so many things /right/ about painfully boring."

She nods to the building. "I'm very aware of how big you must be if you're going to be in any sort of event in there. But, if it makes you feel any better, I met Johnny Storm of the Fantastic Four and reminded him not to get mustard on his nice suit and if he did that he'd better support his local laundromat to get it nicely cleaned."

Katsumi Oshiro has posed:
Katsumi's head tilts faintly to the side. "Who?"

Is she screwing with her? She's playing it /awfully/ straight if she is.

"Boring should never be okay. Much less a paradise. Ugh, you make me wanna take you shopping or something." Back straightening again, Katsumi's arms fold over her modest bust. "Like, you do have fun, right? I swear to God, if you start talking about books..."

Nessa Donovan has posed:
"Okay, there's no way you don't know who he is. He's /the/ fire guy. You know, the one that just turns into fire and flies around and saves the day? Human Torch. He's a movie star too, but I never watched his stuff. Pretty sure he's even got an action figure," Nessa squints a bit, seeming to be in thought. "Maybe I'll buy one so I can taunt him with it." She shrugs off the idea, but then looks thoughtful.

"I mean, depends on your definition of fun. Besides, taking me shopping would be awful. I'd just buy the same outfit five times." She's grinning. "I don't know, I do the same sorts of things everyone else does. I just dress weird."

Katsumi Oshiro has posed:
"Girl, /I/ got an action figure," Katsumi scoffs.

Of course she knows who the Human Torch is. But feigning ignorance seems to have tugged a little something in Nessa, and that's fun. It's like a dog that won't let a chewtoy go when the owner says to drop it; the fun had in the push and pull contest. She can't let her know she thinks it's cool! Besides, he's an American icon. Where she comes from, the world of superheroics is not quite so abundantly relevant.

"No, if I took you shopping, /I'd/ pick out some things /for/ you. You'd at least have to try'em on. Maybe you don't buy'em, maybe you do! But for a few minutes, you'll have to deal with what it's like to wear something fun." Her chin uptilts slightly, as if haughty. "What's your name, anyway?"

Nessa Donovan has posed:
"So maybe I'll just start an action figure collection of all of the people I know." It does actually sound like something fun, and by the way Nessa says it... she probably will. She gestures to the poster. "Well, I know who you are, but you don't know who I am so that's entirely fair." She agrees. "I'm Nessa Donovan and it's entirely likely you won't find anything if you Google me, so I'm that prolific."

She keeps her hand on her hip. "Sure, you could pick things out, but I won't buy them. One, because I'd never end up wearing them, and two because you probably have expensive taste. Everyone with an action figure does, I think. I'd try it, though. It's less the wearing them that makes me uncomfortable, it's more the being around people wearing them. A friend of mine owns a club, he got me to wear a dress there that was certainly more revealing than anything I'd normally wear... boy was /that/ exciting."

Katsumi Oshiro has posed:
"Don't you even start doing the Lord Helmet thing," Katsumi cautions, her eyes narrowing.

She doesn't genuinely expect Nessa to obtain her action figure and make it make out with something. But she couldn't pass up the reference humor. There's just as good a chance that the joke won't play to this audience; she doesn't really know her at all!

"Well, the whole point is to be noticed and feel good about it. You're not ugly." Katsumi's lips purse as she studies Nessa's face. But rather than further critique her on that personal a level, she redirects to herself. "I don't think my tastes are that expensive. I haven't gotten new clothes in a while..." Those bright green eyes fall to her own wardrobe choices; skirt, tanktop, gloves, choker, boots. The boots are probably the most expensive part of the ensemble. "I don't live crazy or-"

Abruptly, her legs seem to give out under her. Katsumi drops to her knees with a panicked squeak, shins bowed awkwardly to either side, and hands having to catch herself against the concrete. Whatever she was about to say is dropped just as quickly as her center of balance. And the casual confidence she had on display is instantly gone, almond eyes widened and focused squarely on the sidewalk beneath her.

'You blacked out. You're not well,' repeats the shadow in the back of her mind.

Nessa Donovan has posed:
Nessa laughs loudly. "I'm not going to /play/ with them. I know you don't know me and I look a little weird, dressed like this in the sun in the daytime like some kind of vampire hiding out, but a collection of action figures is just a collection." She's clearly got the reference. "Maybe it is, but maybe I don't like to be noticed. People have reasons for things."

The interruption of dialogue and Katsumi suddenly on the ground has her moving down to her own knees carefully so she can check on her. "You're okay," she offers in a tone that hints that maybe this isn't the first time she's had to reassure someone of that. "Are you feeling sick? Can you walk? We should get you out of the sun."

She opens her satchel, pulling out an unopened water bottle and holding it out. "Take it slow, okay?"

Katsumi Oshiro has posed:
"N-no," Katsumi replies, unable to keep the waiver of uncertainty out of her voice. She doesn't know that she isn't sick. She needs to not be sick. Can she walk? Katsumi starts to shift her legs, only to find that calls for a great deal of effort; it's as though the strength just vanished from her muscles. Even her arms supporting herself is strenuous. She pushes herself to sit up, rather than lean on her arms to give them a break. Her breathing is visibly hastened in the rise and fall of her narrow shoulders, and anyone with practice and experience in trauma treatment can likely tell the clear indication of panic. The measured front she's putting forward is likely a testament to her ability to handle pressure.

Her eyes finally lift to Nessa again, then turn aside to the massive arena just beyond the fence. The water bottle takes her attention again, and Katsumi puts forward the concerted effort to raise an arm and grasp it. She doesn't even try to open it yet.

"Jetlag," she excuses lamely.

Nessa Donovan has posed:
It's fairly evident that there's more than just a normal amount of jetlag going on and Nessa reaches forward to twist open the water bottle for her. "I think we've all been there at some point," she agrees. She stays where she's at, not encouraging the movement too much. Really, the suggestion of getting up was mostly to assess things. "No need to rush it. I'll wave anyone off that gets close. Take a minute, okay?"

She does take a quick glance around to make sure no one's wandering in their direction with concern, a hand ready just in case she needs to do so. "You know, I could probably be convinced to buy /one/ outfit, but it'd have to be a good one. I like the look you've got going on, so I can trust you to pick something." It's a distraction and she doesn't hide it.

Katsumi Oshiro has posed:
And though Katsumi won't say it, she deeply appreciates the distraction. Well, she won't vocalize it, but the smile she lifts to Nessa certainly says it. But there's more there, just barely causing the smile to appear forced. It's easy to see behind her eyes, though; she's scared.

Bystanders are, indeed, giving them some looks. Each passing moment increases the risk that a good samaritan will happen along and try to ascertain the situation. But so far, so good.

Water bottle opened, Katsumi takes it back and simply cradles it against her torso. "Yeah.. uh.. one wouldn't, um.. be too bad.." Katsumi takes in another breath, and exhales it in a slow, steady whoosh in an effort to compose herself. She can't allow herself to crack in public. Or worse, let any of the promoters find out this happened. She needs to take a drink. That's the first step.

"Tell me, um.. what your.. like.. hard-line.. passes are." Translation: 'Don't let this be me struggling in silence.' "Anything you.. totally refuse to wear..?"

And if Nessa mercifully plays along, Katsumi takes the opportunity to focus on the bottle to slowly lift and take a mild sip.

Nessa Donovan has posed:
Nessa sort of naturally flows into the dialogue, not drawing too much attention to Katsumi's condition. She's not getting worse, so the concern stays at the same level, her gaze split between watching her and keeping an eye nearby. When she notices someone spotting them, she shakes her head, waving them away until she's certain they won't be disturbed.

"I mean, if I'm going to wear it out in public it needs to be..." She seems thoughtful. "Arms covered if possible, just to avoid skin contact. Maybe lace could work, though. Legs aren't as bad. Other than that, it's fine. I'm sensitive about my arms or something." It's clearly not quite the truth there, but it's phrased in a distracting way, to make her wonder rather than focus on her own situation.

Katsumi Oshiro has posed:
Katsumi Oshiro doesn't care. She can keep her arms covered. She's /so fine/ with that right now. "Okay..." She takes another sip. She's starting to feel a little strength return to her limbs. Her heart is still beating in her ears, though. "What about... like a corset top deal.. with a button-up under it.. so you have the sleeves... black skirt.. fishnet stockings.. boots?" After a moment, she adds, "Not heeled boots. Flats. Fishnets sell your legs plenty."

Feeling her arms and legs start to feel more like appendages and less like rubber has allowed her voice to calm a bit. It remains at a subdued level compared to the impishly playful tone she had before, but it's progress.

She takes another sip. Her legs shift again, this time starting to gather her knees beneath herself to regain a little poise. She manages to get up to a kneel, pauses, then starts to- wobblewobble -make her way up to full height.

Nessa Donovan has posed:
"I think I could rock it. Luci would probably raise an eyebrow, but that's always fun," Nessa takes in the description of the outfit with a small nod. As Katsumi starts to get up, she moves as well with an arm out in case she needs to catch her from falling to the pavement again. Getting in someone's personal bubble is not exactly something she does with most people on a regular basis, but these are extenuating circumstances.

"You've got this." The encouragement is in a softer tone, not meant to overwhelm. "I've got a leather jacket, but I think that's the most punk I've really gotten. Actual leather and beat up, not like the off-the-rack pleather. I love that thing."

Katsumi Oshiro has posed:
"Actual leather is retro," Katsumi murmurs, refusing to react to her encouragement. If she reacts to it, she validates this horror she's currently going through. She can't do that, because this simply is not happening. She's fine. She'll be performance-ready when the time comes. There's nothing wrong with her, end of story.

Now standing, Katsumi's head rests bowed for a few heavy, intense breaths. Each one helps her refocus a little more. "Don't wear a jacket with it, if that's what you were thinking." Her head lifts again to look to Nessa. She doesn't seem bothered by the invasion of her personal bubble. Granted, with her profession, invading personal bubbles is a job requirement and in more compromising scenarios. "If you put that together, you'll still look like math class. But sexy math class." The corner of her lips upticks slightly, the ghost of her regaining her stride.

Nessa Donovan has posed:
Nessa laughs, grinning a bit. "I like the leather. It's a good look, and if I give mean looks to people on the street they stay away. Very effective. Social tools are vital. They can admire from afar if they dare. But if you insist, I'll leave the jacket off. Hopefully it won't attract too much attention." She keeps the hand out and ready for a moment longer, just in case before she seems satisfied that there won't be another fall.

"Math class is boring, but there's always one really sharp student who really seems to /get it/. I'm sure sexy math class is no exception."

Katsumi Oshiro has posed:
"If you start telling nerdy math jokes, I might actually hit you," Katsumi lies with a smile. But that smile starts to dim. She can't pretend she didn't just collapse; not for long.

"Um.." Katsumi's gaze drops. "..you mentioned getting out of the sun?"

Nessa Donovan has posed:
"Getting out of the sun is my idea of fun," Nessa's tone is only half joking. "But you'll never escape the nerdy math jokes. Too bad I can't think of any right now. I guess you're safe for today." She offers an arm for support, in case Katsumi wants that before she begins to carefully and slowly head to the nearby covered bus stop.

"Jetlag's awful. You probably need rest on top of this. Water's helpful, so you'll want more of that at some point."

Katsumi Oshiro has posed:
The offered arm is eschewed. Not so much as a point of pride, but for appearances. She knows Nessa has to be aware that she's still reeling. But Katsumi can't let anyone else who might happen to take a quick snapshot cause her any problems. So she moves along sluggishly to the covered bus stop, and gracelessly plops onto the bench.

Inhale. Exhale.

"Yeah..," Katsumi submits, her gaze cast to her toes. "I was just thinking... I should get back to the hotel. Maybe crash for a while."

Nessa Donovan has posed:
Nessa seems content to keep pace and hover nearby in case of trouble, and she finds her own seat on the bench once Katsumi's secure there. The appearance thing seems to be pretty obvious, so she's trying not to make a big deal out of it. "I can get you an Uber. You think you'll be alright getting the rest of the way to your hotel room without any trouble? I'm honestly not doing anything if you need someone to come with you."

There's a slight pause before she adds. "Someone who won't make an obvious big deal about your jetlag."

Katsumi Oshiro has posed:
Somehow that made it worse.

It was so clear Nessa could tell something else was going on. Katsumi obviously knows jetlag has never hit her like that. And compounding it with the blackout she experienced before even leaving Japan, it seems almost obvious the two are connected. The water bottle is set beside her and the girl pitches forward, bringing her face to rest against her hands. Her hair falls to either side, a blue black curtain. Sometimes it's inconvenient to have long hair. This isn't one of those times.

She doesn't respond. Does she really need to? Her palms rub heavily against her pixie features, attempting to manually soothe the stress away. Her shoulders lift in a slow, forced breath, and she exhales again in a steady whoosh.

Get.
It.
Together.

"I-I'm fine," she murmurs against her palms.

Nessa Donovan has posed:
"Alright."

Nessa doesn't press it, even with the protective concern over the situation. "I believe you can handle it. Besides, you're pretty strong if you're wrestling. Jetlag won't keep you down for long. Just be sure to get some water and some food in you as soon as you get back there." She pulls out her phone. "Want me to get you a ride?"

Katsumi Oshiro has posed:
Katsumi Oshiro repeats the controlled breathing. It'll be alright. Nessa isn't pushing. She can ease back off of that emotional cliff edge. She'll get back to the hotel, she'll sleep, and then she'll be okay to do the PR event.

"Maybe it's stress, you know?," she suddenly says, hands still hiding her face. "It could be that. Stress does things to people. And this is the biggest event of any of our careers. That's probably it." She needs that to be it, and she's look to Nessa to throw her a bone on that.

"Y-yeah, go ahead and order it."

Nessa Donovan has posed:
"Honestly? I've been doing a lot lately. A /lot/. So I'm actually surprised I'm not the one who ended up on the ground." Nessa shakes her head. "It probably is stress. That'd track. Just don't push yourself too hard when it comes to things. Plenty of rest, taking it easy, water and food. I'm no doctor, but any time I don't feel great all of those things seem to help."

She taps on her phone a bit, ordering the ride before looking back over. "If you want my number, you can have it. I imagine you don't have a lot of contacts outside of your group and whatnot and it might be nice if you need something but don't want to ask those you travel with."

Katsumi Oshiro has posed:
Katsumi Oshiro slowly lowers her hands from her face, appreciative once again for Nessa's deference. "I'll do that..." Her forearms cross over her lap and against her skirt, and after a beat, her neck cranes to look over to the other female. "Thanks." The word is a little more weighted. She can't come right out and explain it; hopefully Nessa gets it.

"I.. guess that's fine. Sure." Under normal circumstances, there'd be some ribbing involved with the offer of a number exchange.

Nessa Donovan has posed:
Nessa doesn't seem pushy about any of it. It's a very natural sort of offer. She exchanges the number, then waits with her until the car arrives, continuing to chatter as a light distraction. Eventually, the car's there and she offers a small wave as the woman is escorted to her hotel.

Hopefully to rest and actually feel better. Jetlag.