Perrine rolled her eyes, but let it go. "Alright, then. But if you ever do find yourself troubled by love-" She almost said another French proverb, but then decided against it because when she had earlier, he clearly hadn't understood. "-the bottle can be your friend and your enemy. Whatever your woes may be, mon amie-" She raised her bottle yet again in yet another toast. "-drink up!"

"..Yeah. I will," Anthony said, and then downed his entire drink in one go as if to demonstrate it. The alcohol was beginning to kind of work it's magic, now, and he couldn't be more pleased. "my love life is– it's a shithole. Hell. Right now it...isn't that bad, but I wouldn't be surprised if it became worse." And Anthony, perhaps surprisingly, started oversharing as well. He deliberately tried not to share anything that could be used against him, but still. "It, just– sucks. I want to be loved, too, and all that," he lamented.

Perrine nodded sagely. "Ah, mon amie," she said, having taken to calling him 'my friend' in French for lack of a better address ('sir' seemed to formal, 'lad' was too Scottish, 'man' was just weird and she didn't know his name), "I too have stared into the face of Hell- long story -and if you are seeing it in your love life as I have, I sympathize." She shook her head and waved over the serving girl, and when she was told by the exasperated girl that there was still no rum left, she coolly ordered ten shots of whiskey. "But miss-" "Perri," Perrine cut her off simply, and the girl, getting the hint, sighed and walked away. There went Perrine's meal money for tomorrow and the next day, but she had a few bits of food in her cupboards at home that she'd be fine, if hungry all day.

Anthony watched as the woman and the serving girl bickered again for a moment, and then finally returned to the conversation. "I mean– it's not that bad. It really isn't," he tried to backtrack, even though it was much too late to try and do that, "but sometimes I just want...more. And noone I'm with can give me that 'more' and that's just..." Anthony gestured vaguely. Why was he telling this stranger about his love life, even? Who knows.

Perrine 'mhmm'ed through her last sip of rum and squinted again at the man as she put the bottle down. Every moment he started to look more to her like Renaud, and although she knew it was impracticable, her heart betrayed her and gave a leap. Fool, she scolded herself weakly, it's not him. "And that 'more' seems impossible for you to gain, mm?" She leaned back in her seat and winked at him. "Do tell." Mayhaps I can help, she mused, letting her mind wander to memories she'd been avoiding.

Anthony completely missed the wink and any other visual cues, as he was basically just staring at the table, and not looking at the woman before him. "Yeah," he nodded, ready for another round of  oversharing. "I just– I feel like I always want too much from people, and that I'm too much for people to deal with. Like.....I like the people I've..been with, but I always just want things from them they don't want to give." He stopped himself before he could say something incriminating. On one hand, the idea of spilling all this to a stranger was terrifying and unwise, but on the other, it was nice to talk about his worries with a person who doesn't know him and who he'll probably never talk to again.

Perrine noticed he hadn't caught her wink, so she leaned her elbows forward on the table, jutting out her bosom slightly (although she thought this was kind of ridiculous, she'd seen other ladies do it before and just sort of copied the move without really thinking about it) and clasping her hands before her. "I see." Although Perrine had only been in one relationship before, with Renaud, she did understand the feeling of needing something from a person and not receiving it. There was an undertone to his words that she picked up on but didn't mention, sensing that he wanted to keep that part of himself private. Maybe she'd hit a little close to home when she suggested a lady or a man troubling him. She wasn't one to judge, really- after all, look where she was now, who was she to stereotype someone on their life or self? -but she knew how to respect another's privacy, even when this drunk. "And you think you're 'too much for people to deal with' because..?" She hadn't expected this discussion to turn into a sort of talk-out-your-feelings-on-both-ends session, but she didn't mind in the slightest.

Anthony looked up at Perrine, though he didn't notice what she was doing. Mostly because he didn't have any reason to look at her tits. "Because I want too much!" he responded to her question, a bit too loudly. He quickly shut up again, though, because he didn't want anyone else in this pub to pay attention to them. "I just– I just always want too much and I always want more and I guess people just don't like that." That was the easy answer. There were obviously a lot more layers to what he said before, but he didn't see a reason to mention them, so whatever. The point got across.

Perrine got his point and leaned back. Maybe it was foolish of her to think he was like Renaud. Her long-gone Renaud. But still, despite how she could portray a sober person quite well when drunk, her mind was filled with fog and her sensibilities were warped. "More and more can be constraining," she murmured, but then raised her voice and reassured, though she mostly thought he could be putting too much pressure on the people he was with, "though in this day and age, moving quickly in a relationship is commonplace." The serving girl came back with the ten shots of whiskey and Perrine paid her for them and the rum, not intending to have any more drinks after these tonight. She slid five of the little glasses across the table to the man and downed one as she waited for him to say more, as he clearly was willing to overshare, despite his insistence on quite the opposite when she'd initially asked.

Anthony nodded as Perrine talked. "I guess," he shrugged, taking one of the glasses she slid over to him and drinking. "I just feel like...I move too quickly? And, like, that's why things don't usually work out. I just...keep rushing things along. Wanting to fuck on the first date, and all that." A bit crass, but it worked to show his point. He moved the glasses on the table a bit to the side, and then leaned forward and rest his chin on the table, looking up at her with a sad face.