Whether or not he was good at making acquaintances was irrelevant at this point. Amelia wanted to point out to him that being an asshole would never help his social game. She found that more often than not, kindness and respect tended to make far more friends than insults and sexual harassment. He was clearly used to getting his way and since she was pushing against him, he was finally learning that not all females worked in the same way. She tended to think she had more substance than the usual bimbo that came to this establishment looking for a stiff drink and someone to keep them warm at night.
She watched him curiously as he asked for a Riesling wine. So he liked classy, white wine. She didn't exactly pin him for that type of person. She watched him slip the bartender a $100 bill and she looked up at him. "He wants a Josmeyer 2015 Hengst Grand Cru Riesling if you have it." She grinned at the bartender and then back at Braxton. "He's buying me a glass as well." It was forward and brazen, but she didn't care. The wine was perfect, citrus and pear â€" her favorite.
She listens to him talk about a missus and she raises and eyebrow. He didn't seem like the marrying type. "A missus? And yet you're here trying to pick up women?" It wouldn't be the first time a married man tried to buy over her attention. It wasn't the first time and it certainly wouldn't be the last time.
She had been too busy trying to figure out how to bail on the married man before she heard the shattering of glass. Eye lid rose in question as she looked to him. She watched him try to play off the action, but nothing passed her. "Clearly it did more than you're your blood boil." No one just shattered glass in their hand over something that made them angry...unless they were the aggressive type. If that was the case, she needed to tread lightly. "Is your hand okay?" She should at least be polite and make sure that he was okay...even if she wasn't convinced he was a good human being. She couldn't help being nice â€" it was in her nature.
However, she listened to his story, only nodding her head. She didn't want to try to figure out what sort of revelation she had drawn out of him. Perhaps he would change his habits in the future. She doubted it, but she could at least be hopeful.
The waiter poured them both a glass of the wine she had suggested and she took a sip as she looked back to Braxton. "We all have things in our past that we are ashamed of and things we'd rather not relive. But they shape us. They make us who we are." She knew this better than anyone. She didn't always used to be the kind woman who had the occasional drink at a bar. Like him, she had experienced things that she did not like to dwell on. She had been an unwilling participant in the Holocaust. But she never mentioned that. She wasn't even sure Troy knew that part of her history.
He speaks up and she takes another sip of her wine. Did she think ill of him? She was uncertain. She certainly wondered what had happened to him that would make him shatter a glass in his bare hand. "It leaves me with more questions than answers, that's for sure." And cautiously, she slips from her bar stool and moves to the stool next to him. Progress.