“I dunno, I’m kinda into it,” Molly shrugs emphatically, cracking a joker grin. Granted this onset of holiday cheer may have been brought on by the three deliciously chocolatey pints of porter she’s just slammed. That, or the turkey hat someone’s popped onto the crown of her head. She poses, all blue steel, “Proper dashing, no? I mean, yeah, it’s all a bit... politically dubious, but anything’s better than gathering a Thanksgiving feast comprised of items from the Taco Bell dollar menu.” Because, really, who cooks these days?
Backlit by passing floats and twirling performers, Molly bounces on the balls of her feet. “Right then. How many shots will it take for you to have a dance with me?”












