"Not patrons of the arts, I take it?" he said, raising an eyebrow in her direction as he leaned against the counter casually. "And yet you're a dancer." Anyone who had read her journal at all so far knew that, as far as he could tell--that, or they were utter morons. He gave her a little bow at her permission, for he would have retracted the name if she had protested, at least to give face to 'getting along' with everyone. "At your sufferance, ma'am," he said, grinning. "I agree, it is very much better. I haven't asked for anything yet, though I noticed the bar earlier." Which could be promising... though lowered inhibitions were always better in others than himself. "Hopefully they'll give you the shoes soon. I mean, they gave us alcohol, and it's not like you can kill someone with a pair of ballet shoes."