Prompted by the wrinkle in her nose, Eliot held his glass up to his own, taking an obvious inhale. The spices gave an extra punch to what was already a particularly strong — not unpleasant — smell.

"Fortunately, we can say better things about the wine," he concluded, pulling out the chair across from her and settling in. He offered her a little toast, inviting her to clink her glass with his own.

"Eliot Waugh." As long as they were doing full names.