Simon, empty-handed and chipper, approached the blonde girl. "I'm terribly sorry, darling - did you take my seat?"
He sprawled himself lazily over the chair across from her and flagged down a passing server. "I say, old buttercup - do you think you could see fit within your gentle heart to liberate me a bucket of martini? No? Are you absolutely certain? Oh, piffle, surely a little thing like a liquor license - Oh, if you insist. Cheerio, then."
He brightened after a moment and leaned over the table.
"Oh - pip-pip, beautiful, did you know your tea's gone cold?" he asked cheerfully, then added as an afterthought, "And before I forget - you may want to change seats. You see, the vault in that bank across the street," with a brief tip of his head out the window, "is going to be blowing open in about four and a half - " He pulled out a pocketwatch and consulted it. "No, four minutes exactly at the sound of the tone."