When he straightens, Reynard takes a minute to look her over. Only a few moments ago she was firmly keeping him in his place, and then laughing with the joy of ice beneath her feet. Now she seems... reserved. Perhaps she's anxious to do the right thing... or perhaps he needs to give her better thanks.

He pulls off his gloves and heads to the kitchen, crouching down to get to one of the cupboards filled with alcohol for the impending Spring. Grabbing a pair of shot glasses, he comes back and sets them down while he opens up the bottle in his hands.

"Do you know why as soon as Winter hits my preferred drink becomes vodka?" He pours them two small shots before grinning at her and lifting the bottle. "It doesn't freeze when I hold it."

Reynard sets down the bottle so that he can pick up the glasses and offer one to her. "I don't eat or drink much during my Season... but I'd like to toast your long life."