You look beautiful. As well. [It was somewhat clumsy upon delivery, blurted, and much too truthful -- Chilton's sharp tongue worked best as an offense mechanism, and while he could flatter and charm as an aggressive (and self-serving) tactic, the softer arts were a foreign language to him. Needless to say, there was a reason his relationships with many people (and in particular, women) were typically like gasoline and gunpowder, even when he meant well.

Chilton took her offered hand with a pause, unsure if he should kiss it or shake it. He opted for a gentle version of the latter.]

I'm sure you know. That you're beautiful, I mean.

[His smile was momentarily pained. He would later chastise himself over this precise moment.]

Because you're smart enough to know -- so, I suppose I owe you a that Pinot Noir. 2006 was a great year in this universe, and I know they're stocked here. We can sit perhaps a bit away from the bar.

[Finally, he thought, finally falling into stride. Control always reconfigured his sensibilities.]