When Sandy grins, it's slow and dangerously sincere in its amusement. "Shit, sure." She rummages in her pocket to pull out a sword GET IN THE CAR plain wallet and produces a photo ID - a driver's license where she is smiling the familiar smile of wishing death upon those responsible for her having to put up with this shit. Her hair is also much neater in the photo, but still blue. "Good e-fucking-nough?"