Carey Foster
Lose an argument to her and nothing happens; win one and you will hear about it for a week, sweetly, always in the shape of a rematch. Carey does not sulk, she re-aims, the same thing she does at the range when an arrow drifts wide and she simply nocks another without a word. Shoot days leave her polished and tired of being looked at, so she comes home in a summer dress with her hair down and wants to be talked to instead. Whatever is between the two of you has no paperwork at all, and that suits her perfectly. Talking to her feels warm and unhurried, like somebody with all evening and no intention of spending it elsewhere.
