[A little past closing time perhaps, but Tyki tends to haunt his own bar several hours past it on a usual basis. What's better than an empty house with only a rotten little feline for company? A fully stocked bar with a slick shined counter top looks mighty fine in comparison. And tonight like a few other nights he still has company, patrons, and it's not the first night Roxy's stayed this late. She's become a bit of a regular and for reasons he can't quite ascertain (the self confidence albeit drunkenly attained, the flirtatious banter or perhaps a doting feeling or two that align her way because he has no niece anymore) he's come to like her.
It helps that he's drunk when it comes to seeing her a little more attractive than he ordinarily would a girl her age; the younger crowd were always Cyril's fancy, Tyki tended for a little more mature. But this one is cheeky and he's well past tipsy too, been as much since they came to be the last two in the bar.
He refills his glass and then hers, sitting next to her on one of the bar stools. He catches her glance with a bit of an exhaled laugh, transparent smile on his face with a good scoff.] Where are you keeping your eyes, dove?
[The stools aren't far spaced and as it is their arms brush, but he leans her way with a crooked smirk and coaxes his finger along the underside of her chin. A tease, but he raises his brows in return while pushing her glass over an inch with his other hand; served just as she likes it.]