Harley is convinced they call her "Killer" because of her looks. Today she's wearing a long, deep blue coat and the sparkliest earrings Harley's ever seen – elegant sparkly, mind you, not tacky sparkly.
"Look at you, girl. Is there ever a day when you don't look drop-dead gorgeous?"
Lou smiles thinly. Oh right, drop-dead, the name, get a grip on your terrible puns, Harley.
"I mean, how can you afford this stuff? Do you have a sugar daddy?"
Lou scoffs and orders a Swimming Pool. "Work pays well enough."
"Because of the whole degrading a Meta shebang?"
"It's more of a catering to certain fantasies 'shebang'. Johns spend a lot for special services they can't get elsewhere."
"Ooh, sounds exciting. What kinda special services do you provide?"
"It's not as exciting as all that." Sipping her drink, Lou makes a face. The glass frosts over. "Mostly, I lie around like a dead fish and let them fuck me."
Fascinated, Harley watches cold vapor rise. "So is this like," she continues in a whisper, "some kind of necrophilia kink?"
"Huh, that's pretty cool of you – pardon the pun – to offer this."
"As I said, it pays well."
"So, what's that like? Are you cold, um, inside and out?"
Lou uncrosses her legs, a twinkle in her eye. "You wanna feel me?"
"I, uh. Yeah, you made me curious."
"It's gonna cost you."
"Damn, you really know how to play it."
Lou shrugs. "You don't make money by giving out freebies."