As usual, he answered the best in earnest, first thanking her for the invitation and sitting before explaining that, 'Actually, I quite like beer, though I find myself confined to a limited intake.' A pint a week when drinking alone, to be precise, three or four with closest friends in tow but never more alone. Too tempting a habit to form, drinking alone when the depression hit. Too easy. Far, far too easy.
But there was a smile to Terry's face now as he settled opposite Natasha. They'd seen so little of one another since he'd confessed his feelings for her, nearly a month past. Time which proved necessary, for though his heart fluttered slightly to meet her gaze, he found it a friendly comfort, rather than a quizzical ache.