stepping inside, she's hesitant. okay, maybe not some seedy burlesque club (she assumes the pole is load-bearing) or full of jerks in zoot suits, but not exactly the jewel box either. ]
Pleasure to see you, in... [ she gestures haphazardly before pointing at his chest. ] Clothes.
[ there is awkward, and then there is anxious, and then, finally, there is betty mcrae in this moment walking to the bar with a little purse clutched to her stomach, elbows out, like she's some weird baby giraffe. ]