Kristen took the cup of joe, liberally putting in as much sugar as each packet had, trying to sweeten the coffee but not weaken it, since she hated it with milk or cream of any kind. She smiled and said, "Yeah, I do like sweetening my own coffee." But when she heard him mention the guy with the towel, she got wary.<br/><br/>She waited for the waitress to finish up, eyeing her up and down, wondering what was with this place? Had she really stepped into some weird other world or something? She was about to respond to the barkeep, but the man beside her nudged her. She tried to appraise him; he looked like something straight out of an old noir film to her, like something out of Chinatown, but without the redeeming quality of being Jack Nicholson.<br/><br/>She replied, "Revolving door? I stepped through a big wooden door. Didn't look like it revolved to me. And I'm a wrestler. A pro one. Not one a winning streak, but I'm hoping that'll change. What about you? Why so curious about me? You look like some kind of PI. Is this some trick to get me to admit steroid use or something?" She wasn't sure...it could be her manager tricking her. Most people thought she was on anabolic steroids because of her muscles...and they'd be right. She lied, "Because I don't do that, and I don't care for the weird ways my manager keeps trying to make me admit it."<br/><br/>She couldn't wrap her head around the idea she might be...elsewhere.