The feeling is, more or less, mutual, but Fortescue doesn't let that show. She keeps her body language relaxed, an easy smile on her face, as she more or less saunters behind the counter to have a look at the selection. It's been a while, she can tell, since anything was restocked.

Jazz jumps up on the counter, sniffing at an empty glass.

"Good afternoon," she notes, since it would just be downright rude to ignore him. Naturally.