[Reaching for it with as much grace as she can muster, feeling an overwhelming sense of homesickness at the sight of the red liquid, Marguerite raises the glass to her lips. The wine holds a dark and rich flavour, natural indicators of quality and she savours it accordingly. She leans against the bar, looking at Meyer across the counter, her fingers trembling only slightly around the stem of the glass. She is indulging herself and Armand would say it does her no good. Yet, Armand isn't here... isn't here...]
It is a lovely wine. [A pause.] Your expenses must be extensive, to run a place such as this.
action;
It is a lovely wine. [A pause.] Your expenses must be extensive, to run a place such as this.