Morag gave Antonin a look, amused by the caveman speak. 'I think we need to get you out more often,' she teased. 'Practice those polite conversation skills,' she giggled.
'I'd prefer a good stiff whiskey. Do you think Draco's bartenders have anything decent? Most Englishmen have limited acquaintance with good whiskeys and their idea of a good vodka is appalling....' she pointed out.
Her hand on his arm, they walked sedately to the bar, Morag's eye on her quarry.