Was he right? Would she have standards? A drink was a drink...it was what the drink meant that would be the thing that stopped her. She wasn't the girl to sleep with someone just to get ahead, so the idea that she was considering going home with him tonight just so she might get something out of it tomorrow was repulsive to her. She hated knowing she would stoop so low, but her morals and values had only gotten her so far and unfortunately, the well was drying up and she was getting desperate.
She told him that she knew he drank to drown out his sorrows, that he was easy to read in that sense. His quip that came next was so true. You couldn't feel if you were numb. There was a time when Emmy was so "numb" from alcohol that she couldn't tell which direction was up. It had been a destructive time in her life, one she didn't care to think about...especially with someone she didn't know.
When he asked if she ever sang any of her stuff, she shook her head. "I'm too shy to sing my own stuff." Perhaps shy might not have been the best word, but it tied him with his quip about being too shy to sing sober. In reality, she didn't sing her own stuff because that was a part of her that no one knew about. "I haven't had enough to drink." Clearly she was getting a little overwhelmed, but she brought the glass back to her lips to take another sip to down out the nervousness.
Wanting to change the subject onto something less...person (at least for her), she chuckled. "So...I've seen you in here before. You are always people watching, always watching the girls who come in here. So what's your type? You know...the type you like to bring home?" Who he liked to fuck and who he dated were two very different types. She doubted he was the dating type - he seemed more self-absorbed to care about how another person felt in a relationship.