Re: [The Mean-Eyed Cat: Muerte and Cat]
Cat glanced over her shoulder at the bottle that the long finger was pointing toward, and then she looked back at the stranger on the barstool.
Well. It wasn't that Cat was waiting for Em, but she had issued the invitation; it wasn't as if Em showing up would be an entirely unexpected thing. Too, she knew Em was currently in a male body, or what appeared to be a male body - no comments about penises this time, so as not to offend. So, the bourbon, perhaps that made Cat look closer at the man across the lacquer-wood bar.
A few seconds, and then she pulled down the indicated bottle, and she poured. The water? That she added with a glance, because Cat wasn't particularly impressed with watered-down drinks, not when the liquor was good. But she added the water, just like she added soda whenever someone wanted it, and she placed the tumbler on a square napkin that she set in front of the patron.
Did she look again? Sure. Closer? Sure. "You know, you could announce yourself. You never did like doing that, if memory serves." And memory did serve. She smiled, and she pulled out a shotglass and filled it for herself. No water, and she sipped once before lifting the glass in a silent toast.