She's about to point out that there's no bartender, but Logan seems unfazed by this. Maybe this is the way it always is, in the bars here? It's weird, but what about this ship isn't, honestly.

She steps up to the bar too, gazing up at the bottles. No one turns up to make drinks while they wait. "That's it."

She hops up onto a stool, spinning it so her back is to the bar. Then she hoists herself up onto the bar proper, her butt on the surface. Legs raised (but still maintaining her modesty, even in that tiny skirt, she's skilled, okay) up and over the bar, and she drops onto the other side.

"I'm having a Black Russian. Can I make you anything?"