There's a brief moment in which Calendius feels extraordinarily dumb for either not noticing the drink, or not being quick enough to account for it before offering to grab her another. It's lengthy enough for him to make an oh face, and ponder, with a degree of disinterest only granted by excessive alcohol, if he's coming off as a bit of a lush. As soon as it hits, however, the moment's gone, and he visibly perks up when she offers her opinion on whatever it is she's drinking. There's something small and aggressively feminine about the way she comports herself. It's fascinating to him.

"Moscato's peachy, right?" He laughs, open mouthed. His teeth are almost as bright white as the diamonds on her wrist. "It's a weird thing to say here like this, but I don't know too much about cocktails or anything, you know? Most of the time, I just go with champagne because I know it won't stain."