Boring music, boring people, and he wasn't even allowed to drink. Lucas had forgotten he was no longer back in England where he would already be nice and tipsy, but in the stupid States where he wasn't allowed to drink for two more years. The young tattooed punk in the kitchen was wondering why he had volunteered to arrange the catering for his boss in the first place.
Lucas stirred the second batch of sauce warming up in the pan and put the coffee machine on. The buffet table was all in order now, so he sat back down in the dark corner of the kitchen with his mp3-player that boasted a lot better music in his ears from the Misfits to Billy Talent.