Irene leans close and shuts her eyes, managing to multitask as she puts down her wine. Her hand finds Odessa's waist, and she kisses her gently, but not without a certain hunger.

And she knows what Odessa's worrying about- she's had clients she's crossed lines with, women and men, either because she was bored or tired or lonely or because they needed to believe they were something special for her to get the most out of them. "So you're throwing caution to the winds," she murmurs as they part, though their faces remain close, foreheads together. It could sound warning, or rueful, but instead she's smiling- it sounds more like she's flirting. "Good."