First Floor - Bar
While many men seemed put off by the idea that there was a dressing theme for this party, Okoye reveled in it. He played dress-up every day of the week, wearing a different mask of some sort to play to his audience. There was something particularly relaxing about knowing that he wouldn't be the only one wearing a different man's skin for the night. Some may have seen this as a view that made the whole experience superficial and unreal, but for Okoye, it did the opposite.
Toeing the line between playing up the theme and respecting the other partygoers, he chewed on the end of his unlit cigar, holding it between his thumb and forefinger with antique grace. He cut a slim figure in his old school pinstripes, a vest that showed off the gold chain of a pocket watch dangling from its pocket. The shiny buttons ended at mid-chest, giving plenty of room to the obsidian bow tie at the base of his throat.
The gold hoops in both of his ears jangled gently as he turned his head, catching glimmers of light that illuminated his face beneath the powerful brim of his bowler hat. He leaned both elbows against the bar, pulling the cigar from his lips and sticking it safely in the dark red band that ran just above his hat's brim as if it were a jaunty feather. "Gin and tonic, please," he said to the bartender with a smile.