You ask Vanessa if she would like to see your home, and perhaps come in for a drink or two. She giggles a moment, the alcohol clouding her mind to the dangers of the proposition, while she decides on what to do.
"Mmm, I'm not sure." she slurs, before giggling again.
...
You realize, that you have a one in two chance of her coming home with you. Like, flipping a coin and trying to predict which side lands top side up.
Which side would you choose? |