"Ah that's a solid choice," not that she has ever had one, and, come to think of it she's never heard good things about Long Island, but they seem to be popular. Hope will stick with her rather easy going, very mildly alcoholic white girl drink.

She joins him at the bar, resting her forearms on the top and leaning over to look at the buffet not far away, certainly a gracious spread: she has always been partial to pigs in a blanket. Cresant rolls around hotdogs? Culinary genius.

"And you're a big fan?" His words pull her attention away from the brain shaped jello and back to him. "You like it here?"