Bridget's eyes drifted to the dance floor as Rachel and Karl talked, sort of tuning them out. It wasn't that she was ignoring them, that would be rude. She just didn't have much to add to the conversation. Her idea of good literature ran more along the lines of John Grisham or Michael Connelly. She'd also heard it all before. Not those exact words, of course, but if you've heard one conversation about old books and writers, you've heard them all.  Bridget found her thoughts shifting to the present, the wheels in her brain turning madly as she tried to puzzle out exactly which one of them Karl was interested in. Most men made it pretty clear in about twenty seconds when they were interested in a girl. But not Karl. She couldn't be sure if he was humoring one or the both of them, and if he was, which one?<br/><br/>What drew her attention back was the arrival of the waitress with their drinks. It brought a little break to the conversation, perhaps a much needed one. She grabbed herself a glass, and took a nice long pull from it. She looked to Karl, who had been just about to say something when the waitress had reappeared. "I guess since we're sharing here, I'm prelaw." she stated. "And what is that you do Karl, when you're not hitting on girls in clubs?" she asked curiously.