Jack arrives fashionably late – emphasis on the fashionable, as always, but the Apache not being the most formal kind of place, he's taken the opportunity to break out the leather jacket and that shirt without buttons he never gets to wear. (Yeah, it's well fitted. He doesn't work out for his health, after all.)

It's not often he gets to go to a real party anymore – stuffy charity events and dinner-meetings, yes, but politicians are expected to possess a better-developed sense of decorum than princes. Which is tragic, in his opinion, and he intends to compensate fully tonight. Starting with a whiskey.

(Or several.)