From the wrong side of the counter, a spidery hand reached right around him, covered his coins and promptly deposited them back into his pocket in a matter of second.
Her eyes narrowed as she examined him. "Weasley," she guessed, without actually asking. "Shame about the shop." Eileen nodded - toward the bartender as well as him - summoning herself a glass of water instead of planned ale and lifted it, in a toast, or perhaps a mute 'thanks.'