Connie sat and sipped, a bit consumed by her own thoughts as the others put in their two cents. "Yes, games are more than just about the playing, I suppose." Heather did have a point. "Still I think we can trust that our intentions are... well, pure's probably not the word to use here... but good. Mostly good. Four new friends having fun." She shrugged, moving onto the next question. "Much of what I learned from Seven Minutes was... Well mostly I guess I learned what I like. And there's quite a bit of variety there. And volume. I hope you all don't think the less of me for it." Her eyes followed Heather around the room as she pondered the question heavy in the air. How could she convince the woman that it wasn't three and one, but just four. Everything she had tried so far had largely failed.<br/><br/>It came as a surprise that her own promised secret was already out. "You've played it? How unfair, Molly! That was exactly what I had up my sleeve." She fake pouted a bit. "Oh well, maybe having someone else know the basics will make this easier. So... Bull or Bare - basically the idea is that one of us bares themself psychologically while the other three return the favor by baring themselves physically. That's the Bare part. The Bull... well that's the other half of the fun."<br/><br/>Connie paused for just a moment to let it all sink in. She'd never be half the actress that Heather was, any more than she'd be half the artist Molly was or half the genius Riley was. She didn't mind. Being the cross between Camp Counselor and Not-Head Cheerleader that she was suited Constance just fine. But she could go for a little drama - enough to work for Southwest, anyway.<br/><br/>"OK, so here's the rules. We've got stories, I'm sure of it. I've got 'em. I can't imagine Heather doesn't have a few tales to tell. Riley's got a few of their own, no doubt, and Molly's got hers too. So we start sharing - the more outlandish, the better. We relish in them - we share like we've never shared before. Nothing's off the table. But here's the trick - maybe your story didn't really happen. That's for the other three to decide. After one of us tells, the rest of us each get to decide if it's true or not. If it is, we take something off as tribute to the storyteller. Thus Bare. If we don't, the one who smells something fishy calls Bull. "<br/><br/>The stewardess stretched out a bit more, making herself comfortable as she leaned against the bed. "Now if the story is a lie, then the Challenger gets to take something off the Pretty Little Liar, and as extra reward for taking the risk, gets to take an additional item off the person of their choice. If the story's true, however, then it's the Storyteller who gets to strip something off the Challenger and the second party of their choice. Now we'll have to play by the honor system as to whether a story is true or not, but I think we're all trustworthy. We'll just have to swear it now. So if you're game, put your hand in the middle and repeat after me," she started, extending her arm towards the circle which she hoped now Heather would join. "I hereby promise to answer any challenge truthfully by my honor and that of the Sisterhood of the DFW Airport Sheraton Suite, so help me the God who got me stuck here in the first place."<br/><br/>Her smile was bright and yet a little mischievous. After all, one hour ago the four of them were perfect strangers. But the night was young, and promised to be interesting no matter what happened next.