He never heard the woman approaching. And even when she spoke, Booker's laughing came to an abrupt halt. He stared at the Goth kid with malice in his eyes, the sensation of blood and water running down his chin and his split lip going numb. Every sense was fueled by adrenaline. The taste of the pennies in his mouth, his coat soaking into the sweater he wore beneath, the smell of rain and garbage, his wet hair sticking to his forehead. Above all else, it was the feeling of the woman's hand on his shoulder that he felt the most. A feeling of support and protection that he had never felt before instantly washed over him.

Even Booker believed that there was police on the way, but whatever rage he was feeling before this woman arrived was gone. Booker didn't feel like teaching these punks any manners, not anymore. The glass shard that was in his hand, he lets it go. He hears it fall to the pavement at around the same time she started to chant. It wasn't a language he has ever heard with his own ears or knew himself, but it reminded him of something that would be spoken in Church. The entire time this is happening, Booker still has not gotten up off his knees or even looked at her. All he had was her touch and her heavenly voice to go by that she was real.

Was she actually there? Was she some Angel? Was Booker having one of those 'moments' of complete madness? It all seemed surreal, like some moment in the movies or a dream.

What happened next only made him believe maybe he was going a little mad, as he watched the teens scream and stumble in pain. The rain seemed to have purpose and fell in such precision, the wind hissing and growling. It was like it came to life and whatever courage the teenagers had instantly disappeared. They take off, running away from Booker and this woman, as if bees were stinging them.

As they disappear around the corner and normalcy returns, Booker lets out a huge exhale of relief. And finally, he looks up to see if she was really there. He half expected her to be grotesque or frightening based on the teen's reactions to her, so seeing that she was beautiful was a surprise even to him. Actually, seeing she was really there was just as unexpected. His lack of social skills quickly comes into focus as he stutters, "Th-th-ank you. I-I-I don't even know wha-what just," he looks away from her and tries to stand up, "thank you. Damn kids run this city l-like rabid dogs, I-I swear." He feels embarrassed now. Being rescued by a woman or having been jumped by the kids, he couldn't tell which was worse.

He goes to pick up his soaked books and picture, jamming them back into his bag. He is completely oblivious to just how bloody his nose and mouth are, to the point it has stained his coat and sweater beneath. Awkwardly, he extends his hand out to offer as a shake, "My name is Booker." His eyes briefly look into her's, as if to make sure she was still as pretty as before, and she was. "I honestly feel like I should thank you properly. Can I buy you a dr-drink? What time is it?" He looks at his watch on his wrist and sees that it is not even noon. "I swear I'm not an alcoholic but I really could use a drink right about now." Throwing the strap of his bag over his shoulder, he looks around, forgetting they are in an alley, not knowing where any bar actually was.

He doesn't quite know how to react to what just happened. All he knew was that he desperately wanted a drink and he half expected her to decline his offer. His quest to find that woman selling herbs was suddenly remembered, and he stops looking around in the rain for a bar. He looks at her with a curious expression on his face. If that woman I am looking for is a Witch ... is this her? What happened, was that some spell? For a second he looks as though he wants to say something, but nothing comes out. He goes to rub his nose, seeing then he was still bleeding a little. "Shit, I'm sorry."