Relena stopped and turned to look in the car. There sat, though lounged might have been a better word, Dorothy Catalonia, wearing a tight, black evening dress. Her long, almost white blonde hair pull back from her face with a black ribbon, her light blue eyes flashing in the dim interior of the car.
She shook her head slightly, taking a step back.
“You need not worry. I’ve put a towel on the seat, you won’t ruin the leather.”
That stopped Relena’s retreat, the fact that Dorothy knew. She was like a small animal caught in the headlights of a car, unable to move.
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