[ Nashua pulls her hands away when instructed. She clutches the blood-soaked turtleneck tightly between two hands, digging her fingers in when the rubbing alcohol flushes her broken skin. The stinging is brief and potent and incredibly severe, but she exhales through her nose and breathes through it. She's doing her best to keep as still as possible. ]

One of them wore this bright red leather jacket. He looked like a fire hydrant.

[ Thinking, she sucks in her cheek. ]

And his buddy had this scar on his chin. They weren't young, like, kids, but they weren't old either.

[ Her grin is weak and fleeting as she continues, wryly amused at her own subterfuge. ]

I gave them my keys and told them my car was a bright yellow truck parked in the loading bay behind LuxFilms. They're probably still looking for it.