Don Juan was habitually a fan of any drink with an alcohol content, particularly in settings like these. It was always easier to take the world in stride with a bit of a buzz to curb the rough edges. The only time he didn't reach for a drink if offered was if he already had a competing substance underway. But he liked to pretend he was more particular than he was, so he peered at the label on the hovering bottle. "If it's a good one," he answered. "Though I imagine you'll tell me it is, if you brought it. That or you've a deviously petty streak." Host gifts weren't unheard of, but they were also by no means required for a casual party like this; having gone out of one's way to buy something insultingly bad would have been dedication to the snub indeed.

"But I don't think you'd rush to save it in that case," he speculated. "So yes, I assume I'll be very much a fan of this cognac. Let me conjure you a glass," he volunteered. She had just managed to get all her skirts into the portion of the chair not occupied by his leg, and it seemed rude to make her shift to get her wand out when his pockets were still easily accessible.

With a flick of his wrist and a muttered spell, he created a neatly fluted crystal goblet. Charmwork had been hit or miss for him at school, but of all the things one might need to conjure he predictably had the most experience with drinking glasses. "Did I get your name, earlier?" he asked as he handed it to her.

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