[He allows her the moment of victory, the way it plays across her face is silently committed to his memory (this is the only place it is sure to last).]
Bourbon, neat. [The hand that was just drumming against the table lifts up for a moment, knocking at the empty air to the side. His gaze flickers to something over her shoulder - then back to her, eyebrow quirked.] Although you might run into an small issue reaching it.
[It would be a lie to say he didn't sit over here to lure her from out behind the bar.]