#initialize.

[sms] I won’t have to, so long as you give me a formal introduction. Can’t have you running about with slags now, can I? Whatever would Mummy say.

The bar's interior was dim but warmly lit in highs and lows, creating a casual but elegant opulence that lent itself well to the upper-end ambiance. The mincing, jaunty strains of jazz piano provided a backdrop for the susurrous of conversation, the clink of glasses, and the occasional rounds of bright laughter. The Beaufort Bar was the epitome of relaxed, elevated socializing for the trendy and the truly posh alike—and was, subsequently, not a bad place to while away a few hours on a Monday night.

Nodding a thank you to the bartender as the man settled his drink in front of him, Quinn lifted the glass to his lips to take a sip and scanned the room over the rim by habitual impulse, touching on this group or that one with passing interest. The company he'd come with had already taken off for the evening, but he was inclined to stick around for a while yet. It wasn't often he found time to go out during the week; he fully intended to enjoy it.