"No, it was not," he agreed. "I am quite particular about my reds. The constitution is important and I like to know where they come from. You can tell a lot about a year by what it produces." Whether he was talking about wine or blood, it was difficult to say with the way his mind traveled. Paths of thought crossed and uncrossed and wound around each other expertly and without warning, tying his ideas together regardless of their relation to each other. "The pleasure's all mine," Jaq insisted with a wide smile of impossibly perfect teeth. "I apologize for not having warned you soon enough about the red."
With her hand now in his, he couldn't help but notice that despite being thin and well-manicured there was a certain kind of strength in her fingers that lead him to believe that she worked with her hands. "Are you a surgeon by any chance," he questioned, his facial expression neutral with the exception of one quirked eyebrow. All his life, he had made a living and survived off of his ability to read people, to pick up on the smallest little details. It was what kept him interested in the world at all.