He was understandably a little nervous. Not only mortal soldiers but he himself had died, more than once, for her cause. Or at least, later on, for causes masquerading under her name.
It was difficult to explain; seeing said 'cause' just standing there in front of him. No affection but no contempt or hatred toward her either - she was just...
"Thanks."
He had never been here before. It should have struck him as weird, but he didn't know much about her at all - didn't know about both the superficial and things beneath the surface. Sometimes he found himself wondering what Liberty meant at all; all he knew was her name and her smile.
Was that enough to die for someone?
Maybe. Maybe not. It was enough for him.
"I don't know what you drink, so I brought the generic, almost failproof bottle of red," he said, offering the wine to her. He knew next to nothing about wine either, but this bottle had been sitting in his cabinet for a couple of years or three, and he thought she might appreciate it more than he would.