Arlen flashed on the front lights of his house when just a minute before he heard a loud crash. He was sure someone had had an accident right outside his home and stumbled downstairs in a robe to see what happened. He stopped at the door, and ran to the laundry room for real clothes. As he hobbled back to the door, forcing on a pair of jeans and a sweater -- both black -- he grabbed his leather coat off the coat rack and opened the door to his house. Much to his surprise, a woman was emerging from a battered Taurus to frown at her damaged vehicle, and Arlen's misplaced mailbox inside the radiator. It was only good; he'd meant to get the old thing replaced. He got his boots on and was glad they had Velcro straps instead of lace ties, and carefully made his way through the snow to see what happened. He didn't look at all angry, just surprised, and nearing the woman even more, he was able to make out some of her concealed beauty; he could see only her face through her snow gear.<br/><br/>"Hey, is everything alright here? Are you hurt?" He called out, wading through the knee-high snow towards her.