Rayth’s quick laugh made Arla jump, her expression wavering. But it melted quickly back into a half-grin as he repeated her playful insult. She shrugged one shoulder in a silent, ‘no regrets’ confirmation of what she’d said.
	She returned his wink with a confused blink at his retort. “Smurf—Oh!” Remembering her recently died hair, her grin widened. She glanced up at her bangs and blew at their blue strands.  “Hey. At least Smurfette had her pick of the boys in the village.”
	The amusement in her emerald eyes shifted into a ready wariness as Rayth stood. She followed his gaze to the tent flaps curiously, then settled back on him as he turned to her.
	She stiffened at his question, her mouth pulling down slightly in a frown. A part of her hated that he’d know where she was staying. But, she supposed, that would be unavoidable, regardless. As little as she knew about trains, she figured it’d be impossible to not bump elbows with the same person from time to time.
	But then, maybe that could work for her advantage. The closer they were, the better of an eye she could keep on him. Make sure he wasn’t doing anything suspicious behind Frieda’s back. As amicable as he seemed, everyone had their secrets. Her parents’ corporate parties had taught her that much, at least. 
	She snorted a laugh at his apparent reasoning for wanting to leave the Big Top.
	“What, tired of my stink already?” She stood and readjusted her backpack. She gave an animatedly sad sigh. “Just when I was considering bottling it. [i]Eau de Smurf.[/i]”
	Taking a deep breath, she stepped toward the exit. Keeping one eye on Rayth as discretely as she could, she pulled back one side of the entrance flaps.
	Arla looked fully to him, then nodded for him to go first. “Lead the way, Mosquito Boy.”