The timing of her entrance did not surprise Rabastan in the least. Serafina Zabini was smart enough to know that she could not use the wait as a test of Rabastan's devotion; he was relatively patient, and could appreciate the message that timing sent as much as anyone - more than most, in fact - but if she kept him waiting too long, he had no qualms about turning around and going back through the Floo.
No, she made him wait just enough to let him know that she could, but not enough to stretch his patience. Enough to hold his attention. It worked, of course, even as he recognized what she was attempting to do. It worked because he allowed it to work.
He made sure to look irritatingly comfortable, and gave her an almost lazy smile when she appeared. He did not deny that she deserved to toy with men the way she did, but he was nevertheless confident that she would have to get up earlier in the morning to keep him from seeing right through it. "The Haunted Owl," he said easily. "I always did like that name. A place to haunt, if you're a night owl."
That sentence was of no real consequence, but he threw it out there anyway. He had chosen the place for more than just the name, of course. He offered her his arm, because although he was not entirely deserving of the moniker nice boy, he was always mindful of the proper courtesies.