"Most occasions nowadays demand something stronger, at that."

Disdain for one's alternate is not an unfamiliar concept; his is probably a lot pettier, and through the lens of someone with profound regret. Lucius knits his hands together as if they were chatting over the weather, which is about as uneventful as the desolate urban street that acts as their view and backdrop. "You wanted to discuss what happened to the girl," he prompts, a little briskly.