13Dawna’s kinky blond hair still spiraled out to form a cloud around her head. Her sharp sky-blue eyes drew attention away from the dent in her nose-bone.
As usual, she wore the FBI uniform—a yellow oxford-cloth shirt under a Navy blazer paired with khaki slacks. And black lace-ups. Lady-brogues like the pair I’d seen on Bella’s feet.
Dawna looked from me to the robot and shook her head in mock despair. “Big mistake, letting you meet Dude.”
Her Texas accent turned letting into lettin’.
“You just can’t resist the strong silent type,” she added.
Her just came out jist.
Dawna was being old-friend-silly instead of FBI-snooty. Another positive sign.
Encouraged, I played along. “You’re right. I think I’m a goner.” I made a kissy noise at the robot. “Do you love me, too?”
No chirps in rep
