[ Sylvain is tucked away alone at one of the empty tables, the menu open before him and a glass of the Sweet Osmanthus wine clutched in one hand. There may or may not be a faint flush on his cheeks from the drink already, though he hasn't realized it.

He does look up from the menu with a friendly smile when someone approaches, however, gesturing at the empty chair across from him in invitation, expression turning a hint rueful. ]

I don't mind at all. There's not a lot of free seats around here, it seems. Help yourself. There's another menu, if you're hungry?