Phillip glances wherever she is, unable to pick out who in particular she's looking for, but guessing that whoever told her about the place is here. "Ah. Yeah, I get that. What do you do for work? Or was it bad enough today that you really don't want to talk about it?"
Ah. There's that question, one she can't answer honestly without making it entirely obvious why she stopped to flirt with him. (Though, all ulterior motives aside, he is pretty good looking. She'd let him approach her if the situation was anything but this.) But it's also a question her work colleagues have discussed before — what to say when you need an impromptu cover — and she answers it with only the briefest of hesitations.
"Contract security." Or close enough. "Demanding private clients," she supplies with a roll of her eyes, though in this case the client is actually her boss and the demand is... well. All of this bullshit.
Phillip looks over her, a little smile on her face. "I believe that. You look like you could probably kick my ass." Or, at least, if it was actually possible to hurt him and he didn't have the ultimate way of ending any fight. "I've never understood that about any job dealing with people- being jackasses to the people who control whether you get what you want or not." Being demanding at your security detail seems like a particularly bad idea.
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"Contract security." Or close enough. "Demanding private clients," she supplies with a roll of her eyes, though in this case the client is actually her boss and the demand is... well. All of this bullshit.
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