"Meemaw said it ain't good handing out your name to strangers," Abigail croaked, "'Specially not tall, dark men lurkin' outside their sedan full'a friends." Her voice was distinctly southern under a quarter inch of phlegm. She took another tiny bite from her bagel and had a job at chewing it, pulling a face as she swallowed. "I s'pose you may call me... bagel." She looked like she had been waiting to think of a cool name for her mysterious persona for months, then blanked and sputtered out something stupid. Her cheeks even went red with embarrassment and she coolly pulled her hat down, pretending to be elusive when in reality she was hiding her blush and scowling at her own idiocy.

"I hope you don't mind me saying, but you got one helluva vibe comin' off you," Bagel pointed out. "I can feel it. Here." She gave her stomach two resounding slaps. "N' I've met plenty of folks with vibes, mister. You get the good vibes, kinda from here," she pointed at her ribcage, "and the bad ones, they make my neck and fingers all tingly, and the weird ones which I feel in my left knee only... but I ain't met no-one who's given me a tummy vibe before." She took another long pause to eat a little bit of her bagel. "That makes you something of a curiosity. You're either real good news...or some kiddy fiddler-serial killer type deal." 

Bagel eyed Hayrdrian with scrutiny and waggled her eponymous breakfast food in his general direction. "In which case," she said with her mouth full, "I shall warn you, I ain't washed in months and I can run like ol' Lucifer himself started nippin' at my heels. I ain't worth the effort of draggin' into that there sedan of yours."