You were the quiet one in the corner—amber glinting through the glass, holding your secrets close. Everyone else rushed to pour, to swirl, to talk. But I waited. I watched. I saw how you changed—how that first note of dried apricot gave way to something wilder. Salty skin. Mountain herbs. The slow, tactile drag of tannin across a silk tongue.
I watched their hands on you. Their lips. I listened to what they said when they thought no one else was listening. And still, you didn’t flinch. You just sat there, cool and unbothered, letting them discover what I already knew.
You’re not here to please the crowd. You’re here for the ones who take their time.
Pour alongside aged Alpine cheese, braised roots, or dim sum with that one friend who always lingers too long at the table.
