"Eighteen."

Well, might as well make your poor bullied imaginary daughter the same age as the twins, you decide. Eighteen seem too old for concerned parents to be handling bullying, though - you're an adult by then, pretty much, you should be sorting out your own problems, right?

The shopkeeper smiles wider, her expression both triumphant and playfull, and places her hands on her generous hips.

"Goodness gracious. I'd have thought for certain that you're too young to have a daughter that old."

Shit.

"Mother," interrupts the whining voice of the twin behind your left shoulder - you'd bet decent money that it's her habitual, **** tone - "What's this ab-"

The shopkeeper shoots her another **** glare and she falls silent instantly, though you both hear a quiet "humph!" and fell the puff of air from it against your ear. She's standing *very* close to you... no time to get distracted by that though. The shopkeepers staring right into your eyes, knows you're lying, knows that you know she knows, and is playfully waiting to see how you're going to dig yourself deeper. She looks satisfied, secure and amused - and could you be fooling yourself, or does she also look just a little kinda... horny?

Forget it. What stupid lie will you tell this time? You do your best to run through the logical possibilities of a how a guy in his twenties could have a eighteen year old daughter.

That you're older than you look? Or... she's adopted? Or a stepdaughter from an older wife? Or.... Or... a cat? Don't cats age seven times faster than people? You could totally have a daughter of eighteen if she was a cat!!