Jo followed James out to the street and without him having to indicate to her which car was his, she went right to it.
"You know, Mr. Burke, you really should keep your car locked at all times," she said, opening the passenger door to get in. "'N-Reg' or not, it could still be an attractive target to yobish teen joy riders."
She sat down gracefully in the seat, but not before removing a bit of paper from the seat first. She sighed. "No wonder you charge a £500 retainer," she commented, not meanly, just matter-of-factly. "All these parking tickets you're accumulating...." She folded the paper, then placed it inside the glove box along with a score of similar looking papers.
She put on her seatbelt, then folded her hands neatly across her bag which sat on her lap. "So, Mr. Burke, this 'crypt' we're going to," she started. "Is it one of those gothic-styled 'underworld club' of sorts? A place where the clientèle attempt to scare 'normal' people away from?"
Veni, Vidi, Velcro. (I came, I saw, I stuck around)