He laughed, letting her put one finger down, the other still up in tribute to the one that had gotten away. "Thank you," he said before lowering his hand. He considered asking for another drink while the bartender was hovering around but mostly sober seemed the way to go. Crashing at the office was an option but he still had to get there.
He toasted her with what was left in his glass but didn't take the drink, setting it back down on the bar instead. Company he hadn't expected but it was turning out to be enjoyable nontheless. Not exactly the typical conversation but it wasn't boring and he was laughing.
"It's a vegetable. You've never had gumbo? That's not right." He snorted at the face she made. It was like trying to get a kid to eat them. "You know, my nephew makes that exact same face when his mother tells him to eat his carrots," he said, pointing at her.
Eliot's hand rose in a dismissive wave as her knee bumped his legs. "I learned that the hard way," he said, making a face. "I didn't know what she was until she tried to give me a vicious hickey." He had a small scar on his neck to remember that one by. "What's your average a night?"