Kaitlyn can't help but laugh - a hand covering her mouth to stifle a bit of an unattractive snort - at Irene's age disclaimer. "I wouldn't mind if someone thought I was eighteen," she replies as she lowers her hand. "Certainly better than twenty seven." So, yes, Irene. Good call!
"Oh." Oh. "You work there?" There is a bit of surprise in Kaitlyn's voice, tinged with curiosity. "I imagine that makes for an... exiting work day." Among other adjectives that float through her mind. That hand that had been going through her hair rests on the back of her neck, scratching a bit nervously. "What do you do there?" A beat, and a small laugh, "or is not something you can talk about in public? I can't say I've ever really had the opportunity to visit a den of vice, at all. Unless you count the gay bar back home with the mechanical bull. Or my apartment." Which actually isn't intended, initially, as suggestive. But Kaitlyn's quick enough to realise what she's said, and accentuates it with a (admittedly somewhat weak, given the rushed nature of it) smirk.
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"Oh." Oh. "You work there?" There is a bit of surprise in Kaitlyn's voice, tinged with curiosity. "I imagine that makes for an... exiting work day." Among other adjectives that float through her mind. That hand that had been going through her hair rests on the back of her neck, scratching a bit nervously. "What do you do there?" A beat, and a small laugh, "or is not something you can talk about in public? I can't say I've ever really had the opportunity to visit a den of vice, at all. Unless you count the gay bar back home with the mechanical bull. Or my apartment." Which actually isn't intended, initially, as suggestive. But Kaitlyn's quick enough to realise what she's said, and accentuates it with a (admittedly somewhat weak, given the rushed nature of it) smirk.