He followed her in, right behind her. Subconsciously, he scanned the room, taking note of unique people, placement of bar, tables, chairs, ceiling supports, et cetera. Sliding easily next to her, he waved over the bartender, asking for two of the house's special. Requesting nothing more than vodka-spiked coke, he turned to Amena, just staring for a moment, impassive. This time, he wasn't trying to make a good impression- this time, he was studying her.

And he didn't let up, just staring. After a few moments, he frowned, slightly, barely noticeable. Then he grinned, and leaned back, suddenly relaxed, and apparently accepting of her. "So tell me 'bout yourself, miss Amena," he said, in perfect English again, "Where you came from, where you're going, where you [i]want[/i] to go, what you like." He gave a small nod of thanks as he glanced at the bartender, who came by to serve their order. Pushing one of the small glasses over to her, he took a small sip, visibly analyzing the taste, before nodding at the bartender, pleased with it.