"Uh-huh." George did her best to sound adamant and understanding. Her number of sexual escapades amounted to one, and it had been kinky enough that she'd reaped his Dad and gone to his funeral more to flirt than pay respects. He'd also snubbed her afterwards, the resulting frustration of which had lead to another first--of the Holding Cell kind. Who knew assaulting a bridal store display dummy fell under the description of 'Disturbing the Peace'?
At least she sounded unethusiastic enough to be convincing, between her reaper-y cunning, and (liberal internal sarcasm was applied for the next alliteration) superior social skills. "Well, if they go through the trouble of convincing someone you're a tolerable person," Who's about to pop out your unsuspecting soul, "They're only going to spit in your coffee if you fail to show up." Or send a small army of Gravelings to spite you for a week.
"Georgia." She clarified, "Which is just as cruel as Georgina, only people make jokes about peaches and Red States."