Not a code. Merely a test, with respect to be won or lost. Whiskey is clearly the right answer, judging by the warmth of the smile and acknowledging head tip Polli gives Barrow before pouring a glass and sliding it to the chair nearer to her. There's an absence of shrewdness to her gaze, though. Not to say she isn't cunning, not to say her respect can't be incrementally gained or lost here, but she doesn't strike him as someone who will turn from warm to icy on a hairpin.

"Very kind," Bastien agrees, shedding the Marcher accent he's been using around Qarinus for his usual Orlesian. "I would love wine, thank you."

And he was right. She doesn't look at him with the same approval, but not with real disapproval, either, as he takes the further seat.

It's Anonymous who pours his wine, nearer to the bottle, while Polli says, "You must be Bastien," to the correct person, given his accent, before slanting a questioning look at Barrow. "Which makes this..."

"Barrow," Bastien answers for him. No lies here. "A colleague and a friend. This is not his line of work, exactly, but I did not want to be caught alone in the street if something went wrong."

"I see," Polli says, and addresses Barrow more directly. "Putting the body in bodyguard. Did he warn you that we were going to be very boring?"