Adam looks and carries himself much the same as he did at the fights; even if he had the skill to carry off another persona in a different setting his hidden yet all-consuming ego simply wouldn't allow it. He's happy to allow himself to be viewed the same way regardless of the underground game of chance that surrounds him: reasonably well off but not rolling in it, a man who likes to gamble for sport and doesn't mind losing a little here and there in the pursuit of said sport, a man who puts enough care into his bets and play to do the best he can but who is not so attached that he makes a poor loser, a gentleman, very English.

It's fine, it's good, it serves him well. It lets him hide the confidence man and accomplished gambler he was once was, still is in so many ways. And if there's anything immortality has taught him, is that the best games are the long games. He's less concerned with the hands of cards to be dealt tonight; his attention is really on other opportunities to be found and exploited. Who can he expect to win from long-term? Who's an easy mark, who has actual skill, who might try to take his head off for taking all his money?

So at first he's distracted, studying the other players at his table without appearing to. Jason gets by his first glance but ten seconds into once-overing the man to Jason's left Adam stops. Turns. And fixes Jason with a slightly confused look. He could swear he knows that face from somewhere.

"Evening," he says pleasantly, polite half-smile turning his lips though the warmth doesn't quite light his eyes.