"Oh, I've noticed," Lynne admitted. "You have great hair." She smirked at his joke. "I get it," she laughed, winking. "It shows, mon ami. It shows," she complimented.
...and now that she thought about it, like, really thought about it, he did have great hair. Under any other circumstance, she'd be dragging him to the nearest chair to get her hands right on in there, but something about him intimidated her. It wasn't anything he was doing or saying...and she couldn't really put her finger on what it was. Maybe it was just that he worked for the New York Post and he was English. She had no idea. She just knew she wouldn't have the guts to really get in there and take a look. Honestly, it wasn't like she'd have any advice to offer him, anyway; it already looked like he took good care of his coif as it was.
Lynne watched him drink the milkshake and sort of wished she'd asked for one, herself. She wasn't going to now, of course, but...she felt a small pang of jealousy toward him all the same for it. "Yeah, well, I mean it's the maiden voyage, right? I think I remembered it saying something like that being the reason for the contest, anyway, so yeah..." she agreed. "Definitely a story to be had there. I think, anyway."
He said he hadn't seen much of the ship, yet, and hadn't had a chance to interview anyone, either. Lynne gave him an apologetic look. "Well, seeing as how my wussy self has been holed up in my room, it'd be worthless for me to offer to let you interview me...and even more so to offer to show you around," she said, laughing a little, airily. "I'd be pretty useless, even if it would be kind of nice to check this place out with someone else. Saves on the whole feeling like an idiot if you get lost thing, ya know? 'Cause then at least you're not the only idiot," she said with a smirk.