"Donna, Donna Fitspatrick." She glanced over her shoulder to give Ginger a small inspection; the average male, nothing special, though surprisingly well-mannered for someone in a group like this.

"They all act like infants, your friends, no offense. Who's your illegitimate leader? The man who decided to sleep neck deep in cow feces, or you perhaps?" Donna turned her chair around and crossed her legs, she stared intently at Ginger, "Oh yeah, since I claimed a spot in your little group, I guess I should know your name."