The dinner was mostly silent, Jeff enjoying the ambient music and the idea of company that wasn't trying to steal off of his place (as much as he loved Ava, a man's food was near sacred, a Wainwright's doubly so). He made his way through another beer, before switching to water, not wanting to get too buzzed before they even made it to the party.
Once they were winding down the meal, he took a look at his watch, shaking his head back and forth in a little noncommittal tick. "Think you're about ready to head out? We're just about fashionably late, and all."