Tristan laughed; he lowered his eyes from her - after several seconds too long, probably - to the awkward corkscrew contraption he'd been fighting with. "Yes - it is, isn't it. This was just lying around, and I thought I'd give it a try ..." He was suddenly aware that he hadn't bought new clothes in about forever, and those in a second hand shop not far from a trail head in Poland. Jeans and an old, worn button-down weren't really the thing for a night out, were they, even when it was essentially a night in. "We can go outside as soon as I get this taken care of - I think -"
And the cork came out at last, his elbow jerking back with a pop. He grinned, setting it to the side on the counter. "I've got a fire going." Probably enough to cook by, but he wasn't foolish enough to leave all of that to chance. He'd stocked up on a spread that they could eat without cooking anything, cheese and fruit and crackers and all of that nonsense. He tipped out a couple of glasses of wine, and held one out to her with a smile that wasn't quite as shy as it might have been. "Hello. How have you been?"