As I took her hand, a silver sedan slowed. The window powered down. I stepped in front of Sway as I eyed the driver. A middle-aged white man with a salt and pepper Caesar cut and matching beard. Dandruff sprinkles rested securely atop his shoulders, embedded into the mesh squares of his faded medium blue polo.
Riding shotgun was a pale-skinned Rubenesque with a jet black bouffant. Her icy blues darted behind a stiff, puffy, collagen-injected mask.