Tyler waits until Elijah's done for the evening, nursing that one glass of whiskey far longer than he had expected (or wanted) to. He's an impatient guy, so "far longer" really means fifteen minutes? Thirty? Some nebulous amount of time that he hadn't bargained on.

Once he's certain the last song's been played, he wanders over again. "You're really good," he says again in that heavily-accented French. "Do you come here often or is this just a one-time only thing?"