Catherine just took a moment to look at him. He really didn't stick out as much as he thought he did outside of the car. There were so many people who wore leather down at the pub - leather jerkins, leather trousers, leather whatever. So if he hadn't had the car, maybe no one would have noticed him. But she just barely managed a smile at the way he waved, a bit like a nervous child it seemed like.
She opened the door and left it open for him, not going to stand there and wait. Instead, she went to her fire, shifting things around to make the flames live again and threw another log on. Maybe she should have invested in actual heating but if she did that, she might as well have lived in Summerbridge. Once he was there though, she was putting away the poker, "Peter, I assume. You want something to drink? I've got... Whisky, whisky, water, and whisky." She shrugged one shoulder, knowing she was living up to the Irish stereotype.