She huffed, not unused to men's closeness.
"Yeah, but men talk. And I ain't one of the whores known for scars." But she supposed it was what it was. "My boss is gonna flip. But," she shrugged. "What else is new."
Shaking off the ide aof her work, she sat up some more and leaned forward to inspect Chagall.
"So Doctor Chaga-nall," she went on, making up a monicker for his alter ego she was making up ont he spot. "Are her wounds so bad? Will she ever fuck a man again and make all of that sweet coin her boss loves oh so very much?"