"Oh my God," she breathes, half embarrassed but mostly relieved. It makes her feel, at least, a little ludicrous to be standing here in her underwear. (Thank God it's at least practical, reasonably conservative-- the last thing she wants is for him to imagine she's angling to seduce him.) She slips the robe back on, crossed high on her chest and belted, and stands, shifting her weight slowly side to side. She ought to leave, she thinks, arms crossed over her waist.

"I'm sorry-- I just thought-- and with the lights out I could hardly see..."

Dangerously close to babbling, Dana. She chides herself to get it together, but she's still trembling with adrenaline and uncertainty, and if she were honest with herself-- which she often isn't-- she's not eager to be alone.