She was quiet, still a moment more, before suddenly she was in motion again, pushing off from the couch. Leaning over the low counter, she tugged a bottle of wine from the rack. The corkscrew was already on the counter itself; she worked at it, slicing the long, curling spire into the cork.

"Alcohol isn't just about getting drunk," was her soft reply. "Surely you knew that too, once." Pale eyes flicked up towards him with small, wry smile. "Though it certainly doesn't hurt the allure."

The bottle released the cork with a sharp pop of sound, almost like punctuation. She shifted around the counter for glasses next, stretching up to gather two from a higher shelf by their long stems. "The apartment is paid for by my employer, so you owe me nothing on it. It's a place to work and a place to sleep, and little more than that. The security was good enough. With some improvement."