The sun had long set but the night is young yet.

Dante stood in front of the mirror, inspecting every inch of how he looked. He had chosen a deep maroon velvet suit for the auspicious night, three piece, as usual. Otto appeared behind him holding a sober navy suit. Not velvet.

"Sir," he began, "I urge you."

"No." said Dante, "I appreciate your Savile Row sensibilities but that suit is too plain."

"It's tasteful, sir."

"It's boring." said Dante, turning to him, "she needs to see that I'm a different man."

"I'm not sure that maroon velvet is the different you're after, sir." said Otto, sighing, "which car will you be taking tonight?"

"The Veyron." Dante said with no hesitation.

"Maroon velvet and the Veyron. Sir, will she not laugh?"

"She will," Dante began, "and it will be glorious."

With one last sigh, Otto retreated to prepare the car. Dante stopped him. "I'll be driving myself."

The butler smiles. "Very good, sir."

Today ends her fifty years in prison.

That girl once known as Gwen.

"Here's your stuff." said the officer at the post, handing her a plastic bag filled with a jumble of things. The black dress she wore when she came in, a tiny purse with a stick of lipstick, black heels, a red wig, and a baseball cap.

A baseball cap?

"Wait. This isn't mine."

"I dunno, lady. Somebody put it in there so it's gotta be yours."

She takes a closer look at the cap. Suddenly she remembers someone who wore a similar one, and a smile creeps across her face.

"Sorry, you're right. It is mine."

The officer shrugs and let her into a room so she could change out of her prison jumpsuit. It's been a while since she wore anything not orange.

She put on the black dress and heels, put the cap in her purse and walked out into the world for the first time in fifty years. She left the wig behind.

The gates open and she finds a man waiting outside with a car. He wore a red velvet suit and had long, silvery hair that poured over his shoulders. As their eyes met, he smiles.

She walks up to him and smiles back.

"You put it in there, didn't you?" she began, "the stupid baseball cap."

"How else would I tell you I was coming?"

She scoffs. Then she looks up at his hair and runs her fingers through it.

"You wear it long now."

"Yeah, I don't have to hide it anymore." he said, "they don't ask questions now."

"Is your name still Dante?" she asks.

"Always. Are you still Gwen?"

"No, I'm leaving that name in there with the orange jumpsuit." she said, "I've decided to go with Iris."

Dante's heart leaps. "Oh, really?" he asks, failing to sound nonchalant.

"Yeah, somebody told me that name suits me." she shrugs playfully. Dante smiles sheepishly and opens the car's passenger door for her. Iris looks at the car, all its polished curves, and scoffs.

"Something tells me this is an expensive car. Is it?"

Dante grins and doesn't answer. She laughs at him. "If you're trying to impress me with this thing, you failed. It looks like a swollen cockroach."

Iris laughs harder, Dante grins wider.

"And your suit looks like upholstery." she adds, sliding inside the passenger seat. Still laughing. Dante closes the door and gets into the driver's seat. He starts the engine.

"How fast does this thing go?" she asks.

"Fast." he replied.

"Book it."

He revs the engine and they shoot off into the deserted street, leaving echoing roars in their wake.

"So what did I miss?"

"Well, they went to the moon."

"That's nice."

As Dante drove faster and faster, Iris closes her eyes and immerses herself in the rush. The growl of the engine was deafening but pleasant. A benign noise to drown out all sorrows.

"I regret telling you not to visit me. I missed you." she said, knowing the sound of the engine would prevent Dante from hearing it. "It's the only thing I regret in those fifty years." she added.

They shot past all the stop lights and blazed fire across the city. She turns to look at Dante. Her Dante. Still the same but all different. Was he always so beautiful?

"Where are we going?" she asks, loud enough for him to hear.

"Home." he answers.