'My oddities.' That was one way of phrasing it, Alfred supposed. A particularly mild way, given that what they were talking about was something that would have shocked any respectable member of English society. They had established already that neither of them were respectable members of English society, but still — he was still struggling to see this as something that he could just do. It was one thing to not believe many of the same things as the people around him, or to question a few of the things they took for granted. It was something else entirely to take the rules of society and throw them right out the window.

But she'd taken his address, and she was still smiling, so he supposed that was what they were doing. For better or for worse, he'd thrown the dice, and she'd taken him up on the bet. He hoped he wasn't getting himself into some sort of trouble here accidentally. She looked like a reasonably respectable lady, but he didn't really know anything about her, and accepting an offer like the one he'd just made wasn't really something respectable ladies did. Maybe he'd have to see if he could find something or other out about her before she came by, just to feel that he had a bit more of a grip on the situation.

"Would they?" he asked, tone still teasing despite the wheels turning in his mind as he tried to figure this whole scenario out. "You mean visiting strange men's apartments to review their tattoos isn't an every-Tuesday sort of activity for you?"

It was a joke, but it wasn't. He was legitimately curious how often she did this sort of thing (though obviously this exact scenario was unlikely to have happened in the past). He was hoping that this really was out of the ordinary for her, and that she wasn't some sort of streetwalker who had managed to fool him into thinking she was a functional member of society — but assuming that was the case, it raised another question: why make an exception for him?