Remy looked up and smirked at the newcomer. "And yet, you didn' flee in terror. I think I lost a bet."
She was young and pretty, carrying herself with the polished class people equated with the British and Mary Poppins. The bag helped that image as well.
He took her hand, kissing it lightly as he stood. "Guilty as charged, Mademoiselle Folchart. You've improved today's forecast already and de coffee's not even cold. Care for a drink?"