No, no spiked wine. Betty wasn't going to be that hardcore with the girl. Besides, this was just a casual chat. From all of her years of work in journalism, Betty knew that she could get just as much information, if not more, by using casual conversation over less savory forms of sourcing. Rookwood has asked her to find out information on Parkinson, and discern what she knew about this Goldstein boy.
That she could do. Besides, alcohol was just as good at getting things done as any magical equivalent, if used correctly.
Pouring Pansy a glass, Betty handed the wine over to the younger girl with a wicked smile. No, this wasn't exactly a traditional approach, but Betty wasn't traditional. Anyway, girl talk was fun. So was wine. And she was a little tipsy.
"Don't forget the part about the penis. You definitely don't look like a boy." With a playful lift of her glass in a mock toast, Betty brought the wine to her lips and knocked it back as if it were a shot.
It had been a long night. Week. Month-to-be? Regardless, she was drinking.
"I suppose I should be subtle," Betty started as she set her glass down. "Your name was brought up by a few professors, and I've heard a bit about your past encounters with the Outsiders. I was just curious to hear the story from you. Not many can say they have gotten away as lucky as you did."