[i]“Anything?”[/i], Rathe quipped, arching her brow with a smirk.

Rathe slipped her pack from her shoulder, setting it carefully on a cushioned stool toward the side of the bar.  She poured herself another shot, downing it nearly as quickly as it'd been poured, before dutifully setting herself to task.  By her estimation, the best mixer for rum was a couple ice cubes and a squeeze of lime, the latter of which she was surprised to find already prepared and chilling in the ice bin.  Rathe passed over the cheap well shit and went for a clear bottle behind the bar with a dark, molasses-colored spirit, combining it with the ice and lime in a quick stir with her finger.  Licking her finger, and apparently satisfied with the result, she poured a second and added a splash of club soda to give the "cola" some fizz.  

Rathe slipped around the bar, her hip lightly brushing the recent arrival rummaging through the wine fridge as she passed, and presented the gentlemen their drinks, "cola" first, followed by "anything with rum".  "Saluti!"  She let her gaze linger a little longer than necessary on the latter man, seeing Jørgen's face instead.  She hadn't been in love with Jørgen, but he'd been good to her and, more importantly, he was a great lay.  It bothered her, though, the way she'd left things - he believed she was actually coming back.  It was cruel to let him think that, and she'd done it without a thought.  A pang of guilt, remorse, or whatever formed a sick pit in her gut prompting her to break eye contact and return to the narrow space behind the bar, which she shared with the wine enthusiast.  Sliding a broad-bottomed glass from its rack, Rathe set it gently on the bar, "Perfavore caro.  I'd love a glass."