Adam had no ready answer, and so instead he held his tongue. He let the look slide; he had seen worse, both from this makeshift friend and others far less cordial, and regardless of his own discomfort he felt no desire to ruin Alex's night over such a petty thing. He switched the wine bottle from his left hand to his right, taking James' hand entirely against his better judgment. He gave it as hasty a shake as he could manage, ignoring the resurgence of sense-memory that came with it. But for all his outward calm a chill raced down his spine, raising gooseflesh on his tattooed skin, even after he'd pulled away.
"I brought you this," he said to Alex, his black eyes at last falling away from James. He stepped past the taller man, holding the bottle out to Alex. "I didn't know if it's work for tonight's dinner, but if not, maybe some other time."