The woman had short purple hair, and eyes that were unsettingly and unnaturally white, like looking at water through six inches of transparent ice. She was wearing khaki shorts, black army boots, a green top with some sort of red angular symbol on it, though it was obscured by the tanned leather poncho she was wearing over everything else. She had a face that may have looked very pretty with make-up, but was a little too long to be called so, and the elements had sure taken their toll on her skin.

She shone a light into his eyes as he speaks, and when he'd finished, replied.

"Frieza is dead. He's been dead a long time. There seems to be a lot you missed out on. That makes two of us."

She stood up and offered a hand to help him up.

"Can you walk?"