Immediately she begins to sing along with the radio, as if never having beckoned my attention. Mildly annoyed, I reach for the window control, but before the glass has raised more than two inches, she blurts out, “wait!” Without hesitation, she pivots towards her passenger seat and begins to rummage for something.
Seconds later, she’s holding up a business card. “Here,” she exclaims, before flinging a card in my direction. Poorly aimed, the card sails over the Bentley’s fabric roof. As I stare on incredulously, the woman has quickly discovered a spare card, which she promptly launches low into the side of the car. Without the slightest sign of discouragement, the damsel has unearthed a third card, which doesn’t fare any better than its predecessors at the presumed task of making it into the now vulnerable car. At this point, she peers out her window at the fallen instruments before swiftly unbuckling her seatbelt, opening the door, and moving to grab one off the pavement. Unable to look away, I watch as she joyfully recovers a card before flicking it through the GTC’s window.