That was quite unexpected. He didn't mind the company, of course, and it wasn't because it was a beautiful face seated across from him - they both had more than one face, and they couldn't have survived this long without being able to recognise dualities and disparities when they looked it in the eye and snickered.
He gives her his full attention - what she deserves and nothing less - but his eyes fall to her glass, her food, her fingers; anything but her eyes, because who was he before her, but some insignificant other, unworthy of her grace, her presence.
She had very pretty hands.
"I have," he replied, and that was when he deigned to make eye contact. There was that smile again, almost coy but never quite becoming too ridiculous for their setting.