Fucking cool was a more than acceptable way to describe her place, so points for that already. "Merci boucoup. I am the owner, yes," she drawled, the accent a veritable stroll down Bourbon unto its own; couldn't you just hear the buskers and see the flicker of the gas-lit street lamps?
Marie clasped his hand in hers, still holding onto it as she turned and walked to the bar. "Would you like a drink or anything? Or actually - " A great way to begin the interview, with a little practical experience, "Why don't you make me one, handsome?" It was early, but who cared. She practically grew up on the idea of day drinking.
So many options! But she picked a staple of the city she called home. "A Sazerac, s'il vous plaît. Then we'll have a chat."