"Generally I manage to drive them away," he answers with a woe begone look, then smiles. Her laugh is nothing like hers; that's a relief, and he feels a bit more like himself for it.
"Come on, don't do that," he nods at her face. "Look so serious. Face like yours is meant to smile, and it's the least you can do for me if you're gonna keep sitting at my table." Where the hell is his whiskey? Damn that waiter.