Hotel Royal. Expensive digs. Probably not actual digs, unless he's in town on business.
Hotel Royal. Not close enough to walk. They're heading for the cloakroom, and she might be dressed the flapper now but what she's going to be handed is her leather jacket. Nights get cold in Chicago, all the more when you're riding an iron in a dress.
"How do you feel about irons?" she asks him offhandedly, then leans a little closer as if confiding in him, purposefully using the very same sentence construction he just has, teasing again. "I keep one. American."
Hardly befitting of your typical dame, and if that's not to his taste she's just given him an out. She doesn't mind. Any fella can't cope with a woman on a motorcycle ain't worth her disappointment.
She would be disappointed in Daniel, mind. But not at not seeing his suite. Or him out of his suit.