Demelza's drink arrived within a fairly quick response time, considering how many people there were waiting to be served, and how short the number of bartenders on duty there were. Collecting the bottle with its puff of precipitation hovering over the lime-green liquid, she selected a stool that wasn't next to the slightly depressed-looking, unshaven bloke who had clearly taken one too many shots of -- she didn't even want to know what.
She was just about to take a sip, when a male voice spoke to her close enough for her to actually hear and without shouting. Afraid it was the emo drunk man after all, she turned her head cautiously in the direction of the sound. Theodore. She breathed a deep sigh of relief. "It's still early! And this pub is popular," she explained.
He seemed to be preoccupied with dusting something off his sleeves, but Demelza didn't see anything on them. Maybe he was just a little nervous. From the sounds of things, he didn't seem to get out much at all, and in her experience - the more out of practice you were with something, the more paranoid you felt. Maybe she ought to have suggested somewhere a little calmer. Capella's, maybe. But that would probably involve a much more formal sit-down dinner and not at all the casual fun night out she was aiming to have.
If she could just get him to relax.
"I might, if I see someone I know, but you don't have to if you don't want to," she replied nonchalantly. "Are you hungry? I was going to order a plate of chips."