Slevin thought there was something... well, off about Ruby. He couldn't really put his finger on it, but he'd been taught to rely somewhat on instinct, to be self-reliant. Then again, he was past caring. All he really had was his job - no friends, no love life to speak of. Even his hobbies were by and large solo endeavors: he cleaned and maintained his guns, he read, he played video games. Not a whole lot of social interaction.
When the waitress arrived with the vodka, he opened the bottle and poured them each a shot. "To the human race. May they finally get something right, someday." He clinked his glass against hers, then tossed it back.