Serena tried to swallow her groan as Marcus looked her up and down, his gaze positively lascivious. This just further cemented her dislike of him, but still, she knew that she had to be pleasant, so she plastered a fake smile on her lips as she turned to face him, her hand running down Ric's arm until it reached his hand. For some reason, she wanted to hold onto someone who she knew, someone who had always been there, even if they were at odds once in a while. Ric seemed to pick up on her need, as he squeezed in gentle reassurance.

"Marcus! You're back. Wonderful."

"Yes, well, you look parched, so I thought that perhaps we could dance our way over to the bar, and we could share a drink?"

Shiraz sounded absolutely wonderful in that moment, though she was loathe to leave Ric's side. He seemed to inherently understand her reticence, as he let go of her hand to settle his arm around her waist, as if claiming her. The move slightly rankled her, even though she knew the heart behind it, and she fought not to shrug his arm away. "That might actually be nice, Marcus," she replied lowly, looking up at Ric, begging him with her eyes to come along. However, it was in that moment that another woman came up to his side and smiled before leading him away onto the dance floor, leaving Serena alone with Marcus. "I guess that's your cue to lead me there."

"Excellent." His face broke out into a grin, and she tried to display that same sense of happiness as his arm came to rest heavily on her hips. Marcus's fingers rested dangerously close to her pelvis, and she drew in a sharp breath as once more she moved his hand to a more appropriate place. "Sorry."

"You keep saying that, every time I change where you rest your hand. I'm starting to think that getting fresh is your modus operandi." Her voice was cool, as she tried to impress upon him the fact that she did not like him getting so closely into her personal space. Especially since said personal space belonged solely to Bernie, and Bernie alone.

He stopped them twice to dance to slow songs, and each time Serena felt like she was trapped. It was an odd feeling, that was for certain, and the idea of Shiraz sounded better and better. Finally, they had reached the bar, and she met the eye of her bartender friend. He smiled at her as he reached behind for a fresh bottle of wine, and she fought to keep her hand from reaching out for it, the desire to drink straight from the bottle overwhelming her.

"Are you sure you want wine, Serena? Not something fruity and light?"

The patronizing tone rankled her, and she frowned as she took the large glass from the bartender's hand and took the first sip of sweet, sweet, bliss. Marcus raised his eyebrow as he watched her, and she smirked a little, feeling like she was through with being nice. If he was really intent on donating money, he would do so whether or not she was nice to him. "I'm perfectly fine with Shiraz, Marcus. Why don't you order something fruity and light?"

"Whiskey, neat," he bit out, and the bartender quickly filled the glass before handing it over. Serena watched him knock the drink back and was suddenly reminded of her ex, and how he was so careless with his drinks. "So, Shiraz, huh? Not a Cabernet or one of those chocolate wines from the Netherlands?"

"Nope, it's always been Shiraz. And they happen to be stocking a particularly good vintage this time." She took another large swig, relishing the slight burn it made as it slid down her throat. Marcus nodded before holding out his glass for a refill. "I mean, there are other wines, of course, that I'll drink when given the opportunity, since it is rude to turn down what's offered, but my heart belongs to Shiraz."

Serena frowned a little as she stared into her glass, wishing it was a portal to home. "What was that?"

Her eyes widened as she realized what she had said aloud. "Oh, just thinking about my nephew, and how he's doing at home. Sometimes, I wish that liquid could really show us what was happening back home."

"Ah."

Marcus didn't really understand, but he seemed content to let it be as he nursed his second whiskey. She drained the rest of her glass before turning to face the bartender, giving him a desperate look. He took the hint and refilled her glass up to the very rim, and she gave him a grateful smile as she sipped the very top of it off, so as not to spill as she turned around.

To her shock, Hanssen was there, almost right on top of her, and she gasped as he reached out for her glass, giving her a disappointed look. She shook her head as she raised the glass to her lips, taking another small sip, finally starting to feel the effects of the alcohol. "Please, Serena, let me have the wine."

"No," she replied stubbornly, her fingers tightening on the stem of the glass as she glared at him. "You want the donations to pour in, and this is the only way that I can make that happen."

Hanssen gave her one of his looks, the one that cut straight through to her marrow, and she shivered even as she mulishly pulled the glass tight to her chest. Marcus stiffened next to her, as if he was taking umbrage to the tone Hanssen was using with her, and she closed her eyes as she waited for the two men to start exchanging words. "Now look here, sir. A few drinks won't hurt the lady, and she is adult enough to make her own choices. She's here with me, and we were enjoying a perfectly nice evening before you came along. Leave her be."

"You heard him, Henrik. Leave me be."

Hanssen gave both of them a withering look as he once more reached for her glass. Just to spite him, Serena raised the glass to her lips and quickly drained it. It was a waste, since Shiraz should be enjoyed, savored, but there was no way that she was giving into him in this case. "I really expected better of you, Serena."

"Yeah, well, you were the one who asked me to do this, so…"

He sighed and pulled out his mobile, and she narrowed her eyes as she set the glass down on the bar a little harder than necessary. "Do you want to go dancing again, Serena?"

"Yes," she bit out, feeling anger well up in her breast over the whole situation. She knew that the alcohol was lowering her inhibitions, and she still threw caution to the wind as he took hold of her hand and led her stumbling out onto the dance floor.

Glancing back, she saw Hanssen talking animatedly to someone on the other end of the line, and she wondered what he was discussing. Marcus gave her a smirk as he tugged her flush against his body, and the first tendril of doubt began to wiggle its way into her brain. Maybe her obstinance had finally gotten the better of her.