He blinks slightly. He's always smelled the difference, but seeing the edge of it was a little unusual. He doesn't question it however, and goes over to her. Whatever alcohol he's had isn't affecting him yet. It takes a lot to dent his system.

"Enjoying yourself, I hope?" He really prefers this area. There's something oddly homey about it, in a way he can't really identify. Perhaps that Nietzscheans don't generally lock their doors inside their family houses, and someone can come in whenever they feel like it.

Her attire... does not go without notice.