"Probably best to beat it," Tricia answers, and if she were more of a Sheeba lover she might have whistled appreciatively at that show of gams. As it is, though, she's not in the mood to pay attention to anybody's legs.
"Hey," she calls back before the other woman can leg it, since she doesn't have a name to use. "Does that happen at the Fury now? The fuzz?" She's only just moved back to Chicago, after all; a lot can have changed in four years. She didn't think it had changed that much, though.