Accepting his hand to steady herself with - her manner is less 'being assisted' and more 'bracing on a convenient piece of furniture that happens to be a person', although this seems less like something intended to convey a slight than it does like dealing with a temperamental housecat - hers is much cooler and more oddly smooth than it looks. The weather is turning, but she hasn't got even a cardigan, and perhaps it's just because she doesn't need it.

“The Babylon,” she repeats, a bit more sure of it now; she remembers seeing him at the pool area, when she'd been coming and going from that way, although she doesn't think they talked and since she knows she was sober, she's relatively certain she can rely on her own memory. (Never completely, but she's never completely trusted her own judgement, either. There's a reason for that.) “I do remember. Do you live around here?”