"Oh," Malone said. "Make it Dorothy. Dorothy what?" He blinked. "I mean, I know you've got a last name. Dorothy Something. Only it probably isn't Something. What is it?"
"Francis," she said obligingly. "Dorothy Francis. My middle name is Something, in case you ever want to call me by my middle name. Just yell: 'Hey, Something,' and I'll come a-running. Unless I have something else to do. In which case everything will be very simple: I won't come."
"Ah," Malone said doubtfully. "And what do—"
"What do I do?" she said. "A standard question. Number two of a series. I do modeling. Photographic modeling. And that's not all—I also do commercials on 3-D. If I look familiar to you, it's probably because you've seen me on 3-D. Do I look familiar to you?"
"I never watch 3-D," Malone said, crestfallen.
"Fine," Dorothy said unexpectedly. "You have excellent taste."
"Well," Malone said, "it's just that I never seem to get the time—"
"Don't apologize for it," Dorothy said. "I have to appear on it, but I don't have to like it. And, now that I've answered your questions, how about answering some of mine?"
"Gladly," Malone said. "The inmost secrets of the FBI are yours for the asking."