The presumptuousness was an unwelcome surprise, and Igor lifted his gaze from the menu, letting it alight on the woman before him now. He didn't know her. He didn't really know if she knew him or if it was simply his Eastern European appearance having her reach for the bottle of vodka. Not that she was wrong of course, he did enjoy it more than other types of alcohol, but the fact that she would presume to know what he wanted when he himself hadn't yet had so much as the time to think on it was appalling. As if she knew him. As if she knew anything about him.
Someone should really teach the brazen woman some manners. Igor suddenly felt the need to do the public a service. "Stereotypes are so unbecoming, miss."