[ Bottle still in hand, Booker reflexively moves to refill Margo's glass as well, and yes — the action feels so natural, so much like he'd done this a hundred times over, it's almost nostalgic.

But once he sets the bottle down again to retrieve his own glass for a commiserating cheers, he can't quite say that the man she remembers from the Aerie is the same as the one sitting next to her now. ]

I was told there were similarities between me and Sébastien as well, but it's been so long I've forgotten them. And I have likely done things in my life that he never would.

[ Christ, he hates having to admit this to her, like she would think so much less of him. Because he, too, cares a hell of a lot what she thinks even when she was still technically just an acquaintance. A friendly face at best, perhaps. ]