Dorcas had searched her memory, realizing that she'd never actually been to Ronin's place before. When she'd fled to Russia, he'd still been a student at Hogwarts, and since her returned she'd nearly holed herself up the entire time except to work.
Her relationship with Ronin, however, picked up where it had left off, and their exchange of words was always quick, sharp, and full of banter. She'd never really been sure of where they stood, but had never found herself to be bored when interacting with him.
It was strange, now, just a little bit, to be in his house, like old friends.
"You mean you want to fill our stomachs with something other than wine?" she teased. "It'll just take more alcohol to get me drunk, then."
Dorcas tucked her feet up under herself on the couch, eyes gazing around at the various artifacts and tidbits of history. It was all so fascinating, and made her feel like there was a large part of her own life that was empty. Her walls were decorated, sure... but with artwork and candles that she'd bought in the Muggle stores of London. Even that screamed that she was trying to fill her life with the things she was lacking.
"I like when you talk," she admitted, somewhat carelessly. Dorcas generally tried not to be mushy, especially with men like Ronin, but the wine had made her a bit relaxed. "My life is such a bore." Or, perhaps, she just didn't want to talk about her own stories.