Rex watches Penelope approach, glancing between her and the box, wondering if she's the rightful owner, or if this is a social call. The former wouldn't surprise him now that he thinks about it-- the drawings display a flair for the aesthetic, which Penelope certainly has.
When she joins him at the bar, he shifts, turns in his seat so that he's no longer facing the crowd. He raises his bottle and points at it with two fingers to summon the bartender with a couple of beers.
"I'm not a nurse anymore, you know," he remarks, still a little flustered by the nickname. All things considered, there are worse things to be than "cute," and he certainly doesn't object to it, but he's still not used to it. If only she'd seen him a year ago.
Rex slides the box over to Penelope. "Do you have any idea what's inside?"
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When she joins him at the bar, he shifts, turns in his seat so that he's no longer facing the crowd. He raises his bottle and points at it with two fingers to summon the bartender with a couple of beers.
"I'm not a nurse anymore, you know," he remarks, still a little flustered by the nickname. All things considered, there are worse things to be than "cute," and he certainly doesn't object to it, but he's still not used to it. If only she'd seen him a year ago.
Rex slides the box over to Penelope. "Do you have any idea what's inside?"