In even a rather upscale establishment like this, the Shade looked out of place. With the gentlemen in their suits, women in their dresses, a shadowy, shadowy man with his ascot and tophat, a cane and the duster that lit just around his calves, he certainly didn't look like he belonged. He never did, of course, standing in relief, like a dash of black on an otherwise lovely painting.

Not that he minded, of course. He'd always stood out when he wished. That was the point, to stand out. To be the oddity in the sea of normalcy, prompt the questions, and following that came the conversation. Shade did love conversations. He enjoyed stories, it was true, and not necessarily his own stories. Time would come to tell those, but without his journals, some were merely lost to the annals of time, as he wasn't about to write on them once more.

But perhaps he would start writing of his time in the City. Regardless, the gentleman that stumbled in was no gentleman. Bleached hair, a rough voice, the figure reminded him a bit of some musician or the other that he never quite paid enough attention to, so he couldn't think of the name. Something about him screamed interesting, at least more so than the rest of the sorts here. He swooped in for the approach, leaning against the bar in time to complete his sentence moments after he leaned, or slumped, rather, into his chair.

"Was that on the rocks?"