Lucy & Ric & Q & OPEN~
Q inclusion, however brief, would be more than enough to leave Ric flabbergasted for long after. Cary Grant was by no means the worst figure in the history of film to find himself in association with, but immediately filing under a pop culture moniker still managed to pick at old wounds. Already half out of his robe; he was about to offer it to the younger looking man (he specified 'younger looking' on the grounds it was hard to peg anyone's real age) alongside a well-meaning lecture on common decency. While he was at liberty to do as he pleased in private, to appear completely nude within public spaces was a flagrant disregard of the laws of consent. Nobody should have to be forced to look at his bits if they didn't want to, least of all at a time like this --
Oh. The chap was already on his way out, taking with him the need for Ric's fatherly scolding. His bowed head and the quiet muttering of a, "To you as well," came from a place of ingrained, automatic courtesy more so than it pulled from his stores of sincerity. Awkwardly realizing that his robe was still off and extended, Ric tried recovering from his fumble by neatly folding it over one arm. Had the night been a chillier one, he'd have offered it to Lucy without a second thought. As it was Ric suspected he was the only person old and foolish enough to catch a chill on a sticky, miserable night. "I'm willing to believe there are an endless variety of shifters," he said in response to her original inquiry. "Your skills of deduction and that of the, ah, gentleman's have already proven themselves superior to mine. I'll take no offense if you wish to make your way to the front of the crowd and see what more you can glean."