Mason watched closely. A woman behind the bar of his club wasn't entirely unheard of, but some of his clientele would be snippy about it. Mason had no trouble telling them to fuck on off to another establishment if Val was worth it.
The little show made Mason smirk. He let his chin settle into his hand, his elbow on the bar. When she got to the actual pouring part he paid serious attention. This was the important part. He hadn't been exaggerating about his clientele being snobs about their drinks. When it was placed in front of him he lifted from his lean to take a healthy drink. God, it was awful! But that wasn't her fault. He simply loathed sweet drinks.
He made a face as he put the drink back down closer to Val. "Perfectly disgusting," he said before washing the taste out of his mouth with his bourbon. "But perfectly done. Keep your technique entertaining, but any bottles you break come out of your tips." Not her paycheck. He wasn't that cruel. "Don't take any lip from the customers. Be respectful, but don't give them an inch."