Haha Tony having long term friends, let alone ones going back a decade. Funny thing: when you start acting like you're the most important thing in your world, stop answering calls, breaking promises, never being where you say you'll be— people stop coming around. It's a familiar situation. Hell Jack might even recognize it if he cares to think back ten years. And, you know, Tony was in that kind of sharing mood.
No what happens is he shrugs off his choice escorts and makes his way over to the bar. Hard to stumble when there's no room to stumble. Reaching it he pulls several 20s out of his inner jacket pocket and holds them out to the keep. "Heya, Camilla. Long Island and dry. Very dry. You know, like the Sahara or wherever this guy is from. 1940s are over pal— we won the war if you're wondering."
An hand claps down on Jack's shoulder. Yeah. Him. The loser in the beat up leather duds. Until Tony's eyes spy the patch, squint and widen anyway. He has had way too many for this shit. "Is your drink on my tab?"
He turns to the barkeeper. "His drink is on my tab?" Gotta check these things. You know...when...you're... Contemplating murder. It's only for a moment, but damn if he doesn't imagine how good it'd feel to smash Jack's face right into that glass he's holding. Instead Tony takes the Long Island set in front of him and pulls a long sip. "Didn't think they let dogs in places like this. Health code violation or...something. What're you doing here, Jack? Because it sure as hell isn't my birthday."
no subject
No what happens is he shrugs off his choice escorts and makes his way over to the bar. Hard to stumble when there's no room to stumble. Reaching it he pulls several 20s out of his inner jacket pocket and holds them out to the keep. "Heya, Camilla. Long Island and dry. Very dry. You know, like the Sahara or wherever this guy is from. 1940s are over pal— we won the war if you're wondering."
An hand claps down on Jack's shoulder. Yeah. Him. The loser in the beat up leather duds. Until Tony's eyes spy the patch, squint and widen anyway. He has had way too many for this shit. "Is your drink on my tab?"
He turns to the barkeeper. "His drink is on my tab?" Gotta check these things. You know...when...you're... Contemplating murder. It's only for a moment, but damn if he doesn't imagine how good it'd feel to smash Jack's face right into that glass he's holding. Instead Tony takes the Long Island set in front of him and pulls a long sip. "Didn't think they let dogs in places like this. Health code violation or...something. What're you doing here, Jack? Because it sure as hell isn't my birthday."