"Are you going to sit here all day or are you going to go in?" the voice next to her asked. It was a male voice, one that intoxicated her the moment she heard it. But she was never going to let it show. She didn't dare look at him, just in case it did show, even a little. She felt a rush of warmth flood her body, and figured her cheeks had to be bright red. She could tell that the voice wanted a response, but she could not bring her self to look at the owner of the voice. 

"Sitting here takes no effort, moving does. Though in the end, I most likely will be going inside." Once she finished she looked up at the person who was sitting next to her. She mentally kicked herself for looking at him, but she figured her expression of sarcasm was able to cover herself and her mental kicking. "Not yet though." 

​She knew that face, but the name escaped her. Her gaze met up with his. His rich brown eyes seemed so deep that she couldn't 
read anything in them. If she had to guess, she figured he was looking for the same information that she was. Diverting her eyes, she thought hard to figure out who he was. But as hard as she racked her brain she could not think of his name.

"Well, when the mood strikes you, come in. A pretty muse like you should not be sitting out here all alone. I think you are the type of person that should be talking to people." The Mystery Muse stood up and walked to the main entrance of the park and disappeared into the crowd. 

Jezebel still had her head spinning from the whole encounter. She knew she knew who he was, and it was going to bug the snot out of her until she found out. As the moments passed by, she figured she was probably going to do something crazy by the end of the day. She was willing to take that chance to find out who this muse was. She sat against the bench and sighed. Why it bothered her so much she was not completely sure. 

With a harrumph, she stood and crossed the street to the park. The place was packed, and getting inside was no small feat. The wind kept whipping her hair around her face, so it had to be a total wreck, but at this moment she just didn't care. Looking around at the posted signs directing people one way or another, she spotted a talk going on with the muse that came up with The Early Morning Saga. Taking a seat, she tried to blend in and found herself actually listening to the muse talk about how she convinced the author to write about a cow that was allergic to milk. Slowly she shook her head, not understanding why so many people loved those books.

"At least my stories have some meaning behind them. Not about a cow that is allergic to himself." 

Yet she sat there, shaking her head at some of the things this muse had convinced her author to write. Along with the cow, there was a duck that was afraid of water and werewolf that wanted to be a cat. Jezebel gave up all hope for muses and what they thought to be a good idea. She walked around the park looking at the different stands. All around her there were books for sale from all the muses that where speaking. Silently, Jezebel promised herself that someday she would have her book in the stand and people would be coming to see her. But first she would have to get Kevin to actually hear out her ideas, which was the hard part. Getting tired of the walk, she sat down where another talk would be starting soon. 

"Ladies and gentle-muses. Let's give a warm round of applause to the famous muse of the New York bestseller 'House' series, Trevor Black." Jezebel scanned the stage, and caught sight of the muse in question standing just inside the backstage curtain. She gasped. The gorgeous hunk of muse who'd sat next to her! She had been a fan of his series since he started inspiring his author. In a way she looked to him as her own inspiration. And he was the one who she swooned over before she walked into the park! 

Trevor had light brown hair, and dark brown eyes. He was built tough. Almost like he could have been a football muse. Hey, they existed! Who else could have inspired Bill Belichick to send in Adam Vinatieri in the last few seconds of the 2002 Superbowl? Only a muse could have seen a 48-yard field goal in the Pat's future. Of course, Trevor could have just looked that good from working out, which Jezebel had no problem with. No female muse could complain about all those muscles, even if he had to work out to get them. The look on Jezebels' face must have looked happy to onlookers because another muse sat next to her and spoke.

"It's okay, I love Trevor Black, too. Just act cool and he might notice you."

Jezebel watched the muse fix herself, running her hands though hair so blonde you could tell that it was originally black or some variation there of. Of course being able to clearly see the roots showed that. Not understanding why people would change their hair color so drastically, she went back to watching the stage. 

Trevor burst though the curtain sending all the girls flying from their seats with screams that rocked the air. Jezebel wanted to hide and slide down in her chair... either that or jump up and yell with the rest of them. She refused to be too much of a fan girl. Jezebel also wanted to stay clear of the hands that the other girls where waving around in an almost violent way. One blow to the head with those hands could be fatal. Death by fan girl just seemed wrong to her somehow.