Amy's eyebrows raised when the other woman practically jumped out of her skin when she greeted her. Had she sounded that angry over the network that this woman was afraid of her? She seemed to be physically quivering with fear. Amy lifted her hands in what she thought to be the universal show of peaceful, not violating approach.
"Hey, I don't think you stole it or anything," she promised. Even if she had entertained the notion that it might have been a someone, she figured no one would volunteer the dress's location unless they actually intended to see it back to its right owner. Considering the dress was actually there, she saw no reason to look for trouble. Amy walked over in the direction of the dress, which was in an unceremonious heap in the corner of the room. Muttering to herself about rude, maniacal trains, she lifted the long white dress to examine it.