Phillip snorts, bringing up a hand to his mouth. "I have to believe you've got better lines than that," he says with a little laugh, but he's not put off. It's kind of funny, honestly, though he does wonder why she's trying something like that. Maybe he's just overly paranoid, from people who keep trying to follow him around, but...

He gestures to the seat next to him with a smile. "You can sit, if you want."

She doesn't go into things like this intending to make people laugh, but he does because that line was fucking awful. Kate glances ever so briefly at the seat before sliding down onto it and letting her legs dangle in the air, the softest twinkle of amusement glittering in deep brown eyes.

"Never have to use them," she answers, and that's entirely true. When she picks people up, it's usually just a thing that happens. Someone tries to approach her and she thinks why the hell not after one too many drinks. But nothing about this situation is usual, and she's not trying to pick him up.

Not yet, anyway.

"What brings you here?"

"I can see that." Something her gives off the vibe that she doesn't really feel the need to do anything other than let people come to her- the fact that she's hot helps with that. Phillip grins as she sits next to her, taking a sip of his drink. "Should I be flattered that you even tried with me?"

At the question, he just shrugs a little. "Wanted to try and relax, for a little bit. This place usually has good drinks. You?"

Usually, she doesn't really want to. Usually, she just wants to get drunk alone or with some friends. People just happen to get in the way of those plans. Instead of responding to his first question, Kate merely raises her brows with the briefest curve of a smirk playing at her mouth — that is for him to decide. If he wants to be flattered, he can be.

"A—" And here her eyes flick towards the crowd, searching out a man in a terracotta coloured suit and promptly shifting away when she sees him chatting up a girl and her (presumed) boyfriend simultaneously. "—cquaintence suggested it. Long day at work."

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.