First time for everything

Last night, a potential tenant named "Armand," did something that no one had ever attempted. At the end of the "date," D. sensually told him "...and it's only $3,600/month," hoping to seal the deal once again. Instead of giving in to what his body and heart were telling him, he listened to his head, replying, "Not bad, but it kind of smells like cigarettes; thanks for everything, but I think I found a better place... unless you can give it to me for $1,500/month."

I'm proud of my sister for handling it the way she did. She sneered at him and explained that this "isn't the bazaar;" he, of course, caved. She doesn't like taking chances when it involves her getting her money, so she's telling tenants that though the D.C. smoking bans don't apply to bars just yet, they certainly do apply to private residences. Makes sense to me!

P.S. -- I kind of like Armand. He's bald and smells like pizza!