He turned to look at her—a medium-height human woman leaning her shoulder against the scratched plexiglass of an old-style phone booth. Her blonde hair was cropped at the shoulder. Her eyes were the blue color of oceans; Roxborough could almost see the sparkle of sun off the water when he looked at them. She wore black jeans and a white cotton halter, and a cigarette rested between the fingers of her right hand, smoke from its tip curling up along her arm.