It was hard not to hear about everything that was going on in London, but what did you expect one to do? Cower in their flats, waiting for it all to pass? No, Roger Davies wasn't a Gryffindor, but he wasn't willing to let his life come to a standstill because what he suspected to be increased Death Eater activity.
Maybe suspected was too soft of a word. You had to be a fool or in outright denial to not know that whatever was going on...Harry Potter had been right. You-Know-Who was back.
Sliding into the seat opposite of her, he gave her a grin and flagged down one of the waitstaff as he gave her a look over. "I'll buy you three just for being so gorgeous." He was mildly surprised to not hear her complaining that this place certainly wasn't just a bar, but only mildly. It wasn't that far of a leap to make drinks into dinner in a place like this without too much fuss.
Roger wasn't a Ravenclaw for no reason.
Giving the waitress that had come to their table his drink order, he leaned back to see if she would know what to order in a Muggle place. In all their enlightening conversations, he couldn't recall if ever said she was Muggleborn, Pureblood, or even Halfblood. Obviously she knew how to navigate Muggle London, but that could have been for any number of reasons and being knowledgeable of the wizarding world meant nothing if you've been living in it for eight years.