I don't think it would've honestly been a problem if she hadn't said anything. In fact, the thought wouldn't have even entered my head that there is something going on down there.

But she did mention it, and with the two options available at this point, we know that it's either shaven clean, or a full coat of hair. Either will lead to interesting thoughts at dinner.

"Somebody told me when the bomb hits, everybody in a two mile radius will be instantly sublimated, but if you lay face down on the ground for some time, avoiding the residual ripples of heat, you might survive, permanently fucked up and twisted like you're always underwater refracted. But if you do go gas, there's nothing you can do if the air that was once you is mingled and mashed with the kicked up molecules of the enemy's former body. Big-kid-tested, motherf--ker approved."