He scoffs as he slides in. Normal. Honestly. "If that's what you think of me, I must be slipping." Padding after her to the kitchen, he dumps the bag on the table with a heavy thud and takes the bottle out from under his arm.

"Both works as well if you're in the mood for it." Charlie peels the foil from the top of the bottle and whips a knife from his pocket, cheerfully working it into the cork so he can pull it free.