Three Mistresses
A Confessor, a Mord'Sith, and a Sister of the Dark walk into an inn.
"We're full up," says the innkeeper. She's had a look at these three, and she doesn't want any trouble.
"I'm sure you can find room for us—somewhere," says the Confessor, putting back her hood. The Mord'Sith's fingers brush her agiels. The Sister of the Dark just raises her eyebrows, and quaffs her ale.
The innkeeper gulps, but she is a brave woman. "All right," she says, "one room." They start to protest, and she holds up a hand, addressing all of them and each of them at once. "I don't care how Platonic your relationship is—you and your friends are going to have to share."
All three of them look blank:
"What's share?" says the Confessor.
"What's Platonic?" says the Mord'Sith.
"What's friend?" says the Sister of the Dark.