If anything, Anita was the one they had to worry about raising corpses on a semi-regular basis. Raising Fido from the roadside and taking him home for a proper burial just wasn't going to cut it in the long term. But she hadn't been grave robbing--or grave rubbing--last night. She'd actually gotten a decent night's sleep, and she'd been up in plenty of time to shower, and at least partially her long, curly hair.
She'd dressed in black--not because she was into goth, but because she liked the color, and she never got to wear it at the office--and done her makeup. Lipstick, eyeshadow, mascara, and a hint of blush--just enough to keep herself from looking washed out in her little black dress--but no base. With her complexion, she didn't need any. The dress was cut in a way that revealed the worst of her scars--the ones on her left collarbone and elbow, and her forearms--and a delicate silver cross graced her neck. She may not need it around Thomas, but it did protect her from most other kinds of vampires that would try to mess with her.
She covered everything but her hair up with a wool coat, scarf, and gloves. Her Firestar was in the coat pocket, and she had a custom made knife with a high silver content in a thigh sheath, above her stockings--eschewing pantyhose in favor of garters--and pumps, but only time would tell how much of that would be revealed, as she made her way to Thomas and Justine's front door.
When Thomas answered, looking like a slightly modern version of Jean Claude in his leather pants and open shirt, Anita gave him her most brilliant smile--though he would probably be able to tell that her interest was a little more than just professional. He was tall. And he had nice hair. Points for Thomas. She offered her hand. "And you must be Justine's Thomas. I've heard so much about you."