Judging by how freely the wine was flowing into her glass, Paul figured Charlette was having a good time. Or was this her way of masking the sadness she might be feeling at that negative pregnancy test? With her future as an RN clearly there on the horizon, he had a hard time grasping why she’d want to muddle all of that with a child. Although he had no children of his own, it didn’t take a rocket scientist to determine how costly a rug rat was. That aside, she did kinda come across as bummed with those results. Still.<br/><br/>After a hiccup, she stumbled back onto the recliner. Without spilling a drop of the liquid grape, he impressively noticed. The effects of the alcohol were obviously taking hold on her. "I'm sexy too," she slurred. "Aren't I?" Oh boy,<i>definitely</i>affecting her, he nervously thought.<br/><br/><i>Yeah, Old Man. Ain’t she sexy? C’mon, c’mon already! Answer the fucking question!</i><br/><br/>First, a gulp of red wine, followed by, “You’re one of the sexiest women I’ve ever known, Charlette,” Paul stated truthfully. “With or without clothes.” Though he clearly didn’t know when to stop. Truly, he’d make one shitty spy. 007 could sleep peacefully at night for sure.<br/><br/><i>Fucking smooth, Old Man. Real smooth. heh heh Even smoother than 75-year-old Scotch.</i><br/><br/>Paul then wondered if the red wine was speaking for him, too. Well, too late to take that comment back now. Besides, it was the absolute truth. Charlette did indeed have a smokin’ hot body. A body he was granted the privilege of sampling. Numerous times, it must be added.<br/><br/>With or without clothes.<br/><br/><i>So, please tell me again what the effing problem is, Old Man. You still hung up on them nine years?!</i>