Revy is smart about who she fucks. She hasn't had a clingy boyfriend since she introduced herself as Rebecca and she can recognize who thinks a slap is how you get your girlfriend to pay attention when she doesn't bring you beer and who thinks a slap should be inserted into foreplay.

Which means that when Revy is sober, she can spot with one eye exactly who would be a good screw and not make a fuss when she leaves in the morning and who would just be more complications in her already overly-complex life. (Seriously, she misses the days when she didn't have any friends and only had to worry about stealing enough to make rent. Really.)

Of course, Revy is rarely sober when she goes trolling for men.

Which is why, vodka burning on her lips, it seems like an excellent idea to shove her hand down Rock's pants, caressing his package. He made this hilarious squeaky noise and yanked at her wrist, even as he got quite a nice hard-on.

"Come on, Rock, it'll be fun," she drawled.

It took both of Rock's hands to pull hers out of his pants. "We'll discuss this when you're sober."

"But-"

"WHEN YOU'RE SOBER!" he yelled, blushing.

It her legs hadn't decided to go all wibbly-wobbly right then, she would have argued more.