[ Ď ]â The smile that emerges at that first remark is one of utter appreciation, something akin to approval at her concession weaving its way in the god's features.
' So far this evening I have sampled the vodka and the scotch, both things I have learned to appreciate due to my comrades.'
And to avoid dwelling on those in particular the god requests the same from the bartender, allowing a sly raise of an eyebrow as he considers the woman intently.
' Something sharp and sweet. I could interpret that as something that you think is similar to yourself, but I feel you are more on the sharper than the sweet side. Would I be correct in that assessment?'
"ahh, so you're not afraid to try it all. I like that, sugar. It pays to be adventurous, don't you think~?"
Meg's head tilts a little, her smirk only growing with delight. There's something decidedly flattering about someone ordering the same drink, trusting one's example.
Her eyes flicker with interest at his assessment. He isn't concerned about pulling punches either. He sees her more accurately than many in his same position have. That is as terrifying as it is attractive.
"I'd say... you're a very quick study. Am I really that easy to read?" she teases, reaching over to trace small, playful circles over his forearm. An excuse for closer contact, really.
Their drinks are served a moment or two later, Meg not wasting a second before taking a deep sip. Her eyes, however, never leave Thor's face.
