Dawn cast an irritated glance over at Smith. She had been vaguely curious before, now that curiosity turned to ire. "And who the hell are you supposed to be, my mother?" Dawn asked, her voice showing her irritation, and reached over to take the drink that sat in front of the man wearing sunglasses in doors. "And don't worry Smith, I prefer my men to have something other than motor oil in their veins," she told him, sipping at her stolen beverage.