[ quentin leans into the bar, eyes on the pretty lady sitting there and her response makes him huff a bright laugh. serious or not, quentin takes it in stride, shrugging one shoulder and spinning the stem of the flower between his fingers. ]

Well then, I could go. But I'd rather have a drink first - yours is going to waste.

[ he haphazardly reaches to plop the flower in her drink, like a little garnish hanging at the edge of her glass when he raises his fingers to order one of the same for himself from the bartender. ]

But don't let me interrupt your deep thinking there.