Ithacles couldn't help but leave subtlety behind. His hands slid down her back and gave the woman a squeeze. He held her bottom lip in his teeth and fell from his stool. Feet on the ground he lifted her up, swept his pipe to the floor, and set her on the bar easily. She was lighter than he expected, or maybe it was the ale.
She felt perfect in his arms, perfect the way a fresh tangerine is or a warm night with a soft breeze is or nothing to do but stay in bed is. So that's where he kept her to taste the fizzy wine left on her mouth.