As Rebecca slipped out of her jacket, there was plenty for Deacon to admire. She alternately blamed and thanked her mother for curves that could have put Marylin Monroe to shame--if Becca did say so herself. If blonds had more fun, then the redheads taught them how; and given that she was a little bit of both, she had no qualms revving up her strawberry blond with a little bit of ruby red. The pun was unintentional, but amusing, if one knew who she had locked in her head.
"So, since I already have a general idea what I want," she said, when the menus had arrived, "my next question is whether or not they will have ice cream for dessert, or if we ought to wrangle that elsewhere."