"Thank you." She held out her glass and he filled it, tilting the bottle just so; the ruby liquid spilling into the tulip in a swirling stream of rich promise.
"It's a little dry," he said, "but it goes very well with the cheese and olives. Perhaps I could tempt you to some mushroom patè?"
"I'll pass, thanks." Her face formed a rictus as she took a sip of her drink. "Dry, did you say?" She waited a moment until her eyes had stopped watering.
"Indeed." He read the label. "I got it from the deli. 'Vin è gar'."