"This is what she looked like the last time I saw her. I have no idea what she looks like now."
The Fox doesn't just love disguises, she's a plastic surgery maniac. God knows if she still looks the same as the last time they met.
Phoebe reached out to take the sketch. "Out the door, on the right. Diagonally across is the Guest Room."
After saying that, Phoebe withdrew his gaze and reached for the phone on the desk.
Fifteen was still standing where she was, not moving.
Phoebe dialed a number, lifted an eyebrow at her. "Anything else?"
Fifteen secretly clenched her teeth. Of course there was. Was she supposed to keep wearing this wetsuit after taking a shower?
"I need clothes," she answered, in a bad mood.
Phoebe's gaze slid back, he picked up a pen and signed his name on the document on the desk. "I don't keep women's clothes here."
"Men's clothes are still clothes."
Whatever clothes they were, they were still better than a soaking wet wetsuit.
