Remy's smile turned affectionate and there was a note of relief in those demon eyes of his. He'd gone out on a limb when he'd guessed this Rogue shared preferences with his own, and he was happy to know it hadn't been a foolish idea. He stood, nodding in confirmation.

"Tres bien, mon chere. One mocha, comin' right up." The small cafe didn't host servers, so he moved to the bar to acquire her drink, and one of his own. Though they'd never hold a candle to cafes in his own town, they did serve coffee with chicory, which at least was a small taste of New Orleans in the Big Apple. It was one of the reasons he loved the place so much.