'Oof! Lucy was out last night!' trilled Rebecca when she arrived into work this afternoon. Lucy, slumped over the issue desk and lacking her customary happy glow blinked groggily at her. Who was this perceptive blonde girl? 'What gave me away?' she growled blearily.
'Intuition, mainly. That, and the bar stamp on your hand, the dark circles under your eyes, the aroma of beer off your person and the fact that your clothes look slept in. But my psychic gift confirmed it.'
'Well, it's my birthday on Monday. I'm just warming up.'
'Really? Big age?'
'Extremely. Twenty-two. I am ancient. Positively prehistoric.'
'I'm twenty-five, Lucy.'
'Ah. Right. You wear it well though.'