No, the gin was no surprise, earned a quirk of a smile. David watched her, hand on Arla's arm for too long as he considered telling her to sit again, then abandoned the idea. Pacing was probably a good thing - he wanted to start himself, physical activity as therapy for far too many unpleasant thoughts. But, he was the counselor, this was the room people came to to not deal with his new inclination to pace obsessively ...
He let Arla go, walked backwards until he bumped into the desk and let himself perch there. Lemon-flavored water with gin, and pacing ... if Arla got those, at least David could perch.
"All right, now you're not giving me enough credit." He looked at her wryly. "They won't do that, I won't let them."