"I know who that is," he said.
"Yeah, probably." I picked up his glass. "Same again?"
"I just want to—"
"Here's the thing." I dropped the volume, making the conversation solely between us. "They're going to remember tonight as the night they had a couple of drinks without anyone making it a thing. You could be the best part of that." I let the alternative sit without spelling it out.
He looked at his glass.
"What are you drinking?" I asked.
"Scotch. Neat."
"Good." I turned and poured it. The room resettled. I set the scotch down. He picked it up, and we were done.
Nora had seen the whole thing and raised her coffee cup two inches in my direction before she went back to the floor. I turned from the quarter-zip guy, and Pratt was already looking at me.
Heath said something beside him. He didn't answer.
I moved to their end of the bar and crouched, reaching for a bottle on a low shelf.
"Okay, quick thing," I said. "Table in the back wants a drink named after their friend's worst quality. Leading candidate is 'emotionally unavailable.'"
"Brutal," Heath said.
"Too easy," I said, coming back up. "I'm going for fun, not a therapy bill."
"What are the other options?" Kieran asked.
"Chronic overthinker. Which—" I looked around. "Might be too accurate for comfort."
Heath pointed at Kieran and nodded.
I tipped my head toward Pratt. "I'm getting a third category over here."
"You don't have enough data," he said.
"I've got more than you've given me."
Heath watched us.
Pratt looked at me. I pushed another glass in his direction.
"The drink is called The Control Group," I said. "Nothing in it you didn't approve in advance. Clean glass. No garnish because the garnish is decorative and you've got no patience for decorative. Tastes like it knew where it was going the whole time."
Heath laughed, head dropping and shoulders following. I had a half-second to notice it was a genuinely good laugh before the bar needed me elsewhere.
Pratt looked at his glass. He adjusted it a fraction of an inch toward the center, aligning it with the edge of the bar.
"You want to try it? Or do you need the full ingredient list first?"
"I'm already drinking it," he said.
Neither of us moved for a second. The bar kept going around us.
I grabbed the shaker—back table personality-trait drink—and came back on a check pass. "Another round?" I asked.
"Sure," Heath said.
