She can't know, of course, not in any sort of detail. Hell, Lassiter had barely had the time to file the report on the incident in wine country - and there was no way it included his brush with insanity.

He follows her in almost timidly, clutching the bottle of wine for some kind of moral support when he stops at the end of the short sofa. After a moment of consideration, stalling the inevitable, he asks; "Maybe I can pour us a drink?"