The door isn't heard, but the sound of the voice gives rise to panic. She needs to hide the bottle, too late, if there's a voice she's already caught. The only option is to face her execution by lecture with dignity-

Oh, it's Morgan. False alarm.

"Of course! When it comes to those worthwhile, I will always lend an ear!"

The statement rings hollow, overlapping with a memory from earlier in the week, but Morgan doesn't get to see her face twist. Isabelle's already faced away to pull out another flute glass. By the time it's being poured, the expression is back to that schooled smile of condescension she wears like a war banner.

"I hope you didn't set off the silent alarm again," paired with an exhaled laugh as the glass is topped off. White, so either White Zinfandel or Riesling, a good day or a bad day. With the celebration, it should obviously be the Zinfandel. (It's not.) "The last time it led to us getting caught. I'm not feeling up for our beloved principal's complaints, even for you."