Following Robin's hitch-hiker thumb with her eyes, Lisa shot a glance back at 'Ghosty Joe'. The look on her face was pure un-enthusiasm.
"Do I have to talk to him?" she mumbled quietly, intended as much for Robin as it was to herself. Realistically she knew it was an inevitability, like being forced to interact with the other dead-heads around town for the basic necessities, but she wanted to limit that as much as humanly possible.
"You're right, though- I haven't been in a club since my early twenties, and a club here sounds even less appealing than any in 'exciting' northern Indiana."
Lisa sighed, looking back to Robin. She didn't even live in Indiana anymore, and she would take Battle Creek for this place any day.
"Why wouldn't I?" she attempted to lighten the mood with a tease. "Do you turn into some kind of thunderbitch under the high-stakes pressure of selling..." Lisa glanced at the rack next to them, snickering pleasantly. "...Excedrine and Twizzlers?"