He had been her responsible guardian for a decade, so that fit right in with everything else. He watched her as she pulled out wine glasses (and he kept himself from pointing out that they weren't the correct glasses) and showed him around the small studio apartment. He remembered when she was a kid, sneaking into his room in the middle of the night because she had heard a noise and she was scared.
What was she going to do now, if she got scared?!
"Hmm? Oh, sure," he said, extending a hand to take the bottle from her. He could hardly say no to that face, even if he was keen to. And he was not. This conversation required fucking alcohol. He popped the cork and handed the bottle back to her, trying not to think ridiculous 'MY BABY IS ALL GROWN UP' thoughts.