Falcon turned. There was a woman standing behind him. Short and pleasantly rounded in all the right places, with frizzed auburn hair. She wore a short, low-cut dress in emerald green, off the shoulders, prevented from coming all the way off only by a generous expanse of bosom. Subtle face paint, in colors that accentuated both her hair and the color of the dress she almost wasn’t wearing. Broad smile on a face that looked only a couple of years older than Falcon’s. Bright green eyes, steady and appraising, that made him up his estimate of her age by more than a decade.