"Well, I was also referring to the nature of this place. Better to abandon you here than the usual sort of establishment." Lucius' drink slides over once alcohol and ice is fussed with accordingly, money passed back in turn. He spiders his fingers over the top of it, watching detached the configuration of ice in the transparent mix, before glancing back at her and raising his glass in subtle cheers. "But I suggest; be flattered?"

Sip. He's managed to get the straggled ends of his hair snipped a few days ago, looking less like he rolled through a war to get here, and he fits in enough for all that the length and cut of his clothing always manages to side step purely Muggle fashions. Still, he feels decidedly out of place. And that's, by his standards, not terrible.