"Uh huh." She shifted her weight, easing toward the cell without actually stepping forward. The light was dim, but she had great nightsight. The man who lazed on the bench in front of her didn't look anything like the bum she'd seen earlier. She peered at him, caught between wariness and disbelief.

He was clean shaven. Forget that--he was clean. ANBU armor outlined broad muscles, made his shoulders seem wider than they had before, his waist narrower. He had a strong jaw under eyes that were almost black in this light, with heavy brows nearly blending into the shadows cast by his mask, pushed up onto his head. His hair, long and greasy earlier, had been washed and cut short. One shoulder wore a bandage, now, where an ANBU tattoo would go.

She stepped forward, still out of reach. She couldn't smell if he was lying or not under the cigarette smoke. Somehow, she doubted he was. "You have any proof you belong here?"