The bartender was just in time to hear Mark make his request and simply nodded with a smile before looking to Claire to see what she wanted.  "Patron Platinum, please," she said, returning the smile.  At least someone in here didn't look like they'd been sucking on a lemon.  She chose not to sit, instead choosing to wedge herself between two stools and lean against the bar.<br/><br/>Their drinks arrived quickly, the bartender setting them on cocktail napkins before them.  She also dropped off a menu just in case they wanted to order some food.  Claire picked up her glass, waited until he picked up his, then touched the rim of her glass lightly to his.  "Cheers," she quipped before taking a rather healthy swallow of her tequila.<br/><br/>That was the only word she said to him for quite some time.  He didn't really seem to want to talk to her anyway.  She busied herself with some people watching and making up stories about the various groups of people in the room.  The first glass of tequila went down far too easily and the bartender was quick to offer up a refill.  Granted, she'd do the same for Mark when he was ready for more.<br/><br/>She tasted the second glass, just enough to wet her lips, before she turned her eyes to her companion.  "Mark," she began before pausing briefly to gather her thoughts, "I don't get it.  Your leg got wrecked but how did you go from a busted leg to hating everyone?"  Her words were just mushy enough, her blinking just slow enough, her question just brave enough that an observant person would be able to see the tequila was working its magic on her.