[ Emmrich is, similarly, dressed as he usually is, a crisp white shirt worn under a burgundy waistcoat, gold accents visible no matter the eye may wander. He's quick to smile back, nodding as Dorian sits.

Strange — he doesn't feel nervous at all. ]

We could always relocate to the pub, or one of the few bars, if that's more to your taste, [ he offers, as he casts a gaze around the shop. ] But I was considering the Earl Grey, myself.