Jean rolled his neck back a bit as she approached him using her hair. He felt like he was being stalked by a giant, purple spider as she settled down on the table in front of him. But he wasn't unnerved enough to get out of his chair.

"I can't say I am either," he replied. "I mean, I'm a bit of an acquired taste, but if you're going to make an assumption like being soul mates... I would have expected more of a punch-in-the-gut feeling."

Which wasn't like he felt now. Right now he felt like a balloon slowly and nosily deflating. Like the sound a slide whistle made when you pulled on the rod.

"I guess you're pretty enough."

Can you imagine he's never been in a romantic relationship?