Midge’s martini glass stops halfway to her mouth.

“Have you punched a lion before?” Midge asks incredulously. He’s not the type of man to joke about something if hasn’t done it or wouldn’t do it.

“Yes,” she confirms. “I can’t punch them in the face, but I can insult them subtly. Or tell them to fuck off if they don’t get the message.”

Midge isn’t sure if she’s used that kind of language around him before. Surely the words themselves won’t shock him, but he may be shocked to hear them coming out of her.