[If she could could read thoughts as well as she reads bodies, Mandy would probably say something about knowing a thing or a hundred about getting addicted to love and how it can make you blind to too many things until you run smack into reality and get more than bones shattered. And how it really isn't hard to be nice in comparison to the person who left her with nothing but a last name she clung to just for the few doors it cracked open and a heart that she wishes were made of stone but is really just a raw wound that has just barely managed to start healing.

But she isn't thinking about her aching heart for the moment. No, she's far more interested in taking in the other woman's lovely dark eyes. Despite the reputation she admittedly made for herself as much as the press did, she isn't entirely focused on tits and all the other parts furhter south. They're important, obviously, but there's something about being able to look at another woman like that, just gazingly warmly at her eyes and lips and imagining running fingers through her hair, that she's missed so much more than the things they can do in the dark.

She's not so lost that she can't smile impishly, raising her eyebrows suggestively] Rose. Of course you'd have a beautiful name to go along with that beautfiul face. And a great mind as well, obviously, if it's following where my own is going. [she's here of course she would be thinking about that, but there's stopping by a silly little booth for a peck and bothering to be flirt even if it's not exactly in words. At any rate, Mandy isn't at all shy about leaning forward to show off her still respectable tits even better with the 'excuse' of resting her hand on Rose's and licking her own lips to make the paint shimmer just a bit more]