"I'll bet you do," Pansy laughed, but not unkindly. She waved her hand dismissively, "I'm in publishing. I read a lot of terrible manuscripts, send out a lot of rejection letters. Hardly exciting."
She shook her head slightly, trying to make sense of him. "You're too good. And I'm exactly like that. Although, to be fair, if it's fact that I'm better than most people, I can't really be considered arrogant, can I?" She took her (rapidly emptying) wine glass in one hand and reached for his hand with the other.
"Let's find a seat, my feet are killing me already."