"A little low-tech Facetime and chill. I like it," Wynonna says as she gets to her feet. She slows her movements, though they're not exactly graceful- confident, and practiced, but with some noticeable clumsiness. On stage at the Willow, she was never actually turned on- drunk, maybe, but dancing for the scum of Purgatory was always done numbly and automatically.

She doesn't make the act of undressing a tease, though she's at least careful not to just tear the red scrubs off. Barely.

"Well," she says, as she starts to tug off her underwear. "At least you get to appreciate this before the Brazilian grows out."