Ginger wasn't really sure she wanted a drink. She didn't even like to drink, despite how often it happened. Yet, somehow, all protest she had died away as she sat on Sim's bed a bit uncomfortably. It didn't seem like the bat thing would be that interested in tanned girls, though. It had attacked a short, pale English brainy guy. Not her.

"Are you going to go hunting for it with Gael and everyone?" She asked them both, not quite remembering when Gray's birthday was.