Re: Outside the Champagne room.
When the gangster started to head in the direction of the main dining room, he stepped out of the way and bowed with a flourish as a way to indicate that the other man should precede him. “You’re not wrong there. I’ve been dying for something exotic, myself. After you,” and he followed in the gangster’s wake because the place was too crowded to allow for anything other than single-file.
He spoke again once they reached the bar, and there was a playful lilt in his voice. “Don’t think for a second that I missed your challenge, sir. I came prepared.” He reached up and with the heel of his hand pushed the visor up and back from his face, only to reveal a matte black mask that fit over his eyes and nose like a second skin. He remained disguised, and was free to eat or drink without any risk of revealing his identity – clearly the helmet and visor were just for show, included to complete the costume.
This time the flash of teeth was unobstructed when he smiled broadly at the gangster, wiggling his eyebrows as if to ask ‘Impressive, no?’. He then turned to order a drink, leaning his elbows against the bar and raising his voice to be heard over the din. His order arrived almost instantly: plain tonic water with a splash each of mango and guava juice, and that was about as exotic as his orders were likely to get. Alcohol was something that the masses needed to oil their joints and get them moving swift and loose, but not Riot Suit.