Remy had rocked up to the club after John's text message, having taken the extra time to get ready, wearing a pair of well fitting jeans and a white shirt, long black trenchcoat sitting open as he strolled in, cigarette between his lips.
He walked over to the bar, lips curling into a smile as he saw John there with a crowd of people he didn't recognise. "T'ink I could trouble y' for a light?" he asked John, voice low and accented as he leaned right down against the other man's ear, lips against the shell. "And one o' dem shots if y'ain't gonna drink dem all?"