Lola was on her way back to her trailer when the sounds of shouting rather loudly assaulted her hearing. She couldn't make out what was being said, but she could tell the direction, and the dull events of the evening were such that Lola found no reason not to head that way, see what was going on.
She hadn't expected to see Bailey kicking at chickens, but she also hadn't taken her last client of the evening for the blubbering, crying type, so obviously her expectations were a bit off this evening. At least Bailey was man enough to express himself through violence. An amusing, fleeting thought wondered if that was how he was in bed as well, but there was no substance to the curiosity. With men, there never was. Not with Lola, anyway.
Rather than pondering the ways Bailey stood apart from the crying mess she'd romped and robbed, Lola walked up behind the man, brushing her fingertips against his wrist to announce herself before moving in front of him entirely. She really doubted his violence would continue now that she was blocking his path.