With as carefully as he’s watching her he’s bound to pick up on a few things. That she’s favouring her left side, primarily, but it only shows intermittently, as though she’s trying to hide it And keenly well-practiced at doing so.

That earns him a laugh that dissolves into a wince, her hand pressing against her side. So much for hiding it. “Fuck. That’s true, isn’t it.” How long has it been since she’s been in a place where proper Scotch was actually obtainable? Arkham, maybe? Since she’s pretty sure Scotland stiull existed on that Earth, even if she’d been trapped in a fictional city in Massachusetts. The Carnival during one of their... layovers? Maybe. Oh well. It doesn’t really matter, does it.

She grabs one of the top shelf bottles of whiskey and turns to pour Dr. Darling his drink. It’s a healthy glassful. One of the perks of working in a bar. Then she’s coming out from behind the bar, drinks in hand. “Shall we?” she asks, holding out his glass and indicating one of the unoccupied booths in the back corner. It’s well enough away from anyone that they can speak freely. Without fear of being overheard.