[the smile he gives her is far more genuine than what he'd give anyone else, albeit smaller than the fake mask he usually plasters on. A gloved hand immediately seeks out the top of her strange, mechanical companion's head, though, as if it were as real as he and Isha]

Does a gin joint differ from a tavern, or does it mean the same thing? [it's a half-serious question, old habits spurring him into rambling on the topic she's presented to him] Or do these gin joints specialize in only serving gin?

[he gives a considering pause, the glass in hand swirling the liquid] I remember having gin. It was quite good.