The Wanderer eyed the coins.

“A coin a bottle seems fair enough.”

So, he took two, left the third, and slid over the two bottles to Eoin.

What’s his local currency?

They’ve got a bottle of Sauternes on hand? It’s a very, very sweet French white wine.

He’s so tired.

“Just before the place got wrecked.”

He pulled an ‘oh’ face.

“The first time, I mean. And uh…”

The Wanderer shrugged. His gaze falling back onto the careful slicing at hand.

“That’s for me to know.”

He could play the domineering game too, if she was insisting on playing it.

- twirling the corners of his lips.

- productive at the same time.

“So…”

He started carefully slicing. Thin strands of lemon slowly piling up before he dumped them in the bowl for storage once he was finished.

“…you figured it out yet?”

Bright blue eyes looked around, and his smile became clearly visible. A hint of mischief -

He could watch her mind working away. An ever so slight smile appearing on the lips hidden behind his tattered beard. The Wanderer grabbed a metal bowl, some sort of alien knife, and a handful of lemons from a nearby mini-fridge.

If he was going to stick by her, he might ad well be -

“Coming right up.”

He cut himself off. Catching his tongue just before his professionalism broke, and he set about making the drink. Ice, pouring the right ingredients, and stirring before finally sliding the drink over.

“On the house.”