"Vanny wants to go down again," she said, smiling insolently. She shook the soft brown hair and her eyes danced. She had dark blue eyes, Caine noticed, and they sparkled and flirted. And Caine wanted none of it. He wanted to get this over and he wanted to get away.
She was making him more nervous than the boy was, only it was a different kind of nervousness. It was the kind that got into your blood and found your heart and your breath, and it was more dangerous.
"Down, down!" the boy was yelling.
"All right," Caine said. "All right."
He spiraled the ship toward the jungle.
"You know," he could hear the girl say, "I don't think Driver likes you, Vanny. I don't think he likes me, either. Why don't you like us, Driver?"
Caine concentrated on his flying.
"You know," said the girl in her husky voice, "maybe he doesn't like it because we call him Driver. Do you, Driver?"
Caine accelerated the ship and cut at the tips of the vine-trees. He heard the clicks of the boy's camera and his crazy yelling.
The girl touched his arm with her toe again. "What is your name, Driver?"