Sitting in the sofa in the coltswear store, she could almost feel Anonymous' hands supporting her croup and plot. She tried shifting her posture in the seat, but it didn't change anything; those nimble fingers of his were dangerously close to some very sensitive places, and she could have sworn she could make out every single one of them on her, even though the only thing beneath her in reality was just plushly-upholstered furniture.