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It starts in a dimly lit room in Tuscon and years later, she'll remember this and laugh to herself when potential Actives look at her like she's never sat where they're sitting. She knows the Dollhouse by heart by the time he's finished talking, or so she feels- he's a very persuasive man and this sales pitch has probably won him a dozen employees and Actives.
Adelle, as it stands, is unimpressed.
And oh, it's not him. He's a very charming man for an overcompensating dogsbody who has all the appearances of a man threatened by the mere idea of a woman presiding over one of his fellow houses and, certainly Rossum has quite an intriguing operation that's offering her for more than what she's had in the past. She has never been the type to be sated by mediocrity- not when there are better dishes laid out on the table. No, the real reason she's unimpressed is because she can't afford to be anything less than apathetic, emotionless, and devoid of interest. If she looks too desperate, they'll call it weakness and find ways to exploit it.
Of course, there are morality issues and he keeps looking at her and making wry comments, suggesting he doubts a woman's compassion can handle the strain of doing such unspeakable acts to perfectly willing volunteers, whether to help them or not. It's prostitution and it's vile and it's evil and it's wrong- he's probably heard that whinging from various women before and anticipating (and likely hoping for) more of the same.
Adelle De Witt doesn't whinge.
She also knows there's a time and a place for morality and it's not this moment nor this place. Like her feigned disinterest, a lack of perceived morality gives away nothing anyone can use against her.
She pauses thoughtfully for too long when he's done blathering on and then gives him the warmest smile she can manage, crossing her legs in a very deliberate fashion. "Which house were you offering?" She asks, her voice deviously saccharine.