Perrine gave the man a second once-over. He looked kind of like Renaud, if she squinted. The thought gave her heart pause and she sighed. "Yes, well, chacun voit midi à sa porte." Raising her bottle in a toast to the old French proverb, she kept her gaze on the man without really meaning to stare. A fellow across the room started cheering and she glanced over to see a man practically bending a woman over a stool as he kissed her, the person beside them was the one cheering, probably a friend. Perrine grimaced. Renaud did that to her once. He misjudged the distance and she landed on the floor. Fun times. "You got a story?" she suddenly asked the stranger sitting across from her. The more she looked (and narrowed her eyes), the more he appeared like Renaud, and it was simultaneously throwing her off and making her want the man to talk to her in return, rather than just her rambling on about her woes.