Her voice is husky form the faithful pack a week habit she keeps. It sounds okay when she sings, but it makes for great radio. She gets the deliverymen who stick around and listen after the morning drive time talk show all hot and bothered. One or two have called to tell her so. The husky rasp seems to have no effect on the one person she wants it to affect. Of course it's a guy. When isn't it? His name's Vince, but he inroduces himself as Vinny. He does the morning drive time talk show, interspersed with random selections of ska (he used to play in a ridiculously named ska outfit) and Tom Waits.

She forgets how they met, he may have been doing time in the news room or production studio, or he may have already secured the morning drive time slot. It doesn't really matter to her now. She remembers in the early stages of their vague aquaintanceship running into him at one of her first house parties. She knew no-one and really just wanted to know where they were stashing the vodka. Hell, she was so socially terrified she would have had a beer. She ended up having both. The alcohol hit her system faster than she expected and found herself wandering around from room to room, talking to everyone in them. She doesn't remember what exactly happened when they first started talking, but she remembers it was a generally friendly conversation.