Don Juan smirked at the remark. "I'll allow it," he said magnanimously, "So long as it's more than half full."

He rose and went to retrieve the glasses, slipping his coat off his shoulders and onto the back of one of the chairs as he went. He'd been waiting for her fully clothed, so that he was more defensible if it wasn't her that found him here, but he had no intention of staying buttoned up if they were drinking together. Alone, at half midnight — she knew what she was getting up to. She could hardly pretend to be scandalized if he rolled up his sleeves.

He plucked the glasses off the shelf and offered her one. "Do you want to lock the door?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. It was nothing to him either way — she was the one that would be impacted if they were discovered. And there were pros and cons to either choices; they might be less likely to be accidentally happened upon if the door was locked, but if someone with a key or a wand came along it was much more damning to be caught behind a locked door. And there was the matter of trust — they had really only spoken a handful of times, and while she had been agreeable and bordering on flirtatious during those conversations that didn't necessarily mean she was comfortable being locked in a room with him.

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