Tuck laughed, glancing over at him before picking up one of the tiny bottles and spinning it around his hand. “I may have tended a bar or two,” he admitted, opening the bottle and offering it to Arthur. “Do you want a glass,” he asked, arching a brow.

“Of course, then there’s that smile,” he said, feeling a bit more brazen from the alcohol and encouragements such as that smile itself. “Anything else that might be good to know. I’m all for making you smile. I like those dimples.”