"So what's his story?" she says, jerking her head toward the recalcitrant yank. "And what are you doin' with a Yank. Are you his official tour guide to all the worst sorts of places?"

     Loki says without any offense taken, "Old enough to drink in the benighted You-Ess-of-Ay, even. So over eighteen." He trails along in the same direction, doing up the buttons on his jacket awkwardly with one hand. "You want my number, or should I start moping around in here hoping to run into you again?"