"Champagne it is, then," he said with a smile.  It was a little hard to read his expressions, but he seemed nice enough.  He cocked his head a little, seeming to notice the rose on Miranda's wrist, and looked back up at her silently as he reached into the cooler for the champagne.  He popped it open with the speed of a professional.  A flute seemed to float up from behind the bar, and he tilted the bottle, filling it just over halfway.  "There you are, my lady.  Enjoy your evening."  He slid the flute toward her and stood, arms crossed, watching her curiously.