[Fight or flight, stab or run, same thing.

Trish raises an eyebrow, tapping her magazine on her lap.]

That's why I'm offering you a seat, you know.

[An invitation, because Trish is finding very quickly if she's going to learn anything worthwhile about the people in this frankly huge social circle, it's got to be by her own hand.]

Unless you like standing there looking like a feathery Leaning Tower of Pisa.