Cait laughed. "My type?" She shook her head. "Let's find you someone first. You're the oldest. And besides, we both know that neither of us really has a type." She looked to David, as if to clarify something. "It's not called 'desperate', either. So don't get the wrong idea about us. I like to call it 'enlightened' or 'empowered'. Some kind of feminist mumbo jumbo." She nodded her head as if that solidified her notion and then looked back to her sister.
"Look, I bet he's willing. He didn't say no, did he?"