While Lily was on earth, she was the sort of woman who owned men. She has never forgotten this; her actions are flavored by her knowledge that she once had 'em all wrapped around her finger. These days, she's just annoyingly overconfident.
The fox spends a great deal of time with Tony, who has gradually accustomed himself to a slow, steady stream of commentary on the weather and the world at large. He and Louie have the dubious honor of being the vixen's confidantes; they know that she isn't just acting confident to hide secret feelings of inadequacy. There's no woman more sure of herself than she.
The peculiar thing about Lily is that she smokes. While the others accept Angelo's smoking habit as normal and acceptable, they give Lily a hard time about it. Not that they can be blamed entirely. Lily is inclined to blow smoke in the face of anyone she doesn't like, and she never gets her own cigarettes...
Lily: C'mon, Ange, let's go to the bar.
Angelo: Not tonight, Lily. I'm tired.
Lily: Fine. I'll get my coat.
Angelo: Did you hear me? No.
Lily: [seductively] You know you want to.
Angelo: [snapping] Piss off, vixen. Go waste someone else's time.
Lily: [pouts] You're just prejudiced against me 'cuz I'm not a cat.
Angelo: Cats don't steal your cigarettes.