At Lucan's words, Sally at first seems amused.  She smiles appreciatively at Andi's non-verbal suggestion, and smiles very faintly as she turns toward the hostess... about to speak, she freezes.  Something about Lucan's words cause her to reconsider him, to listen again.  Aware of a spreading warm flush-- which is not obvious on her complexion-- she leans back.<br/><br/>She knows she doesn't own anything the likes of which he's described.  So why does she feel... different now?<br/><br/>Her tongue trailing at her lips in thought, she reaches for her hip pocket and pulls out a pocketknife... not a huge one, mind you, she's not Crocodile Dundee, but a slightly larger one than you might expect a girl barely out of high school to carry.<br/><br/>Unfolding the case knife, she turns her questioning eyes back to Lucan before gingerly opening the button on her low-riding jeans.<br/><br/>Her self-consciousness seems to have faded with whatever realization she's had, and she slides the zipper lower by an inch, then looks down furtively.  The breath she's been holding escapes in a soft puff of surprise.  Though it must look-- awkward-- she presses her thumb to the tip of her knife and-- barely out of sight-- nicks something from her underwear.  She folds the knife, puts it away.<br/><br/>Saly looks up at the hostess.  "Ashtray, please?"  When it arrives, she sets in it a tiny, black-silk bow.  "Guess I forgot," she whispers, utterly unconvincingly, and takes a long, slow swallow of the cold vodka beside her hand, finishing the glass.  She lets a cube of the ice roll around in her mouth, clicking it lightly against her teeth.  "Now I need a light."