Despite the fact that he was only eighteen, Stavros could hold his liquor pretty well, but that might have been because he'd had his first drink at fifteen. He preferred vodka because that was what he was used to, so when he'd found a bottle of Stoli behind the bar at the pub he'd looked around furtively before taking the whole thing and then finding a glass. He might not drink the whole thing, but it paid to be prepared.
He saw the girl before she saw him, and he cocked his head to the side as he watched her pour some wine, then he looked down into his own glass before refilling it. He swiped up the Stoli with one hand, then shoved hair out of his face with the other. Ten paces between himself and her table. Five paces. And there she was.
"Good evening to you," he said with an incline of his head. Not quite a bow, but almost. "Stavros would like to have a drink with you."