It was clear that Oliver would not be getting the anonymity he was so looking for that evening. No sooner had he gotten rid of the bartender than a face suddenly appeared beside him. It was a nice face, but one he was not familiar with, despite her smile telling him the exact opposite. He studied her for a moment, before his eyes shifted to glare at the half empty bottle sitting beside him. Alright, perhaps he was feeling a little more than pleasantly buzzed.
Fancy meeting him? Oliver raised an eyebrow at that and redirected his attention to the woman who'd suddenly sprung up beside him. He was in a muggle pub drinking English whiskey of all bloody things. There was nothing fancy about it. He was slightly suspicious as to why she had approached him, but she wasted little time in telling him and he relaxed a little more, glancing over her shoulder toward the table she'd indicated. The bloke certainly didn't look pleased, but luckily for her, Oliver wasn't particularly in the mood to make it easier on the bloke.
Leaning forward against the counter, he snagged an empty glass from the counter and raised it to the bartender, a signal to let the other man know what he was about. Given the go ahead, he flipped it over and set it down in front of her. Using his other hand, he grabbed the bottle and poured her a single shot. Whether or not she drank it was up to her, but honestly, if you were going to sit around with a Scot hell bent on getting drunk, a shot of whiskey shouldn't surprise you any.
"Well played," he commented, setting the bottle back down and turning to study her again. "You seem to know who I am, but I can't say the same about you. It's bad form to drink with someone and not ask their name."