Oh — a bottle. Ford supposed he'd be here a little longer than the hour he'd planned, then, if they were sharing a bottle. It had not occurred to him that he could have refused — Ford wasn't really the sort of person who refused offers, generally speaking. He smiled, though not out of any particular anticipation for this little interlude, then retrieved the bottle.

"You'll have to give me a moment to catch up," he said, indicating his own glass of red wine that he'd gotten from the bar. "I only just arrived for the evening. Greengrass, by the way," he said by way of introduction, as he took a seat in the chair — the chair Lestrange had been in when they'd played cards in January, not that it mattered. Should he offer to play cards this time, too? He was a little less nervous about being discovered as a fraud who didn't belong here, by now, but he wasn't sure he could sustain a bottle of wine's worth of conversation without some kind of distraction. Then again, this fellow had just been sitting here doing nothing, apparently, so maybe he didn't play cards. Or maybe he had something else on his mind.

"You weren't waiting for someone, were you?" Ford asked, tilting his head slightly. "I won't be offended if you were."