Had the man been outside his room at all today, or was this really his first excursion? Judging by certain looser nuances in the his frame, Sidney had to credit him with leaving, if only to seek his cure at the bar.
For himself, the middle Mr. Parker had gone swimming in an effort to clear his head. He had vastly cut back on carousing after meeting Charlotte; in her absence, he had redoubled his efforts as if making up for lost time. While staying at the Crown certainly had the desired consequence of not running afoul of Miss Heywood in any midnight hallways (for which he could not be responsible for what he might do by candlelight), it also assured him complete accessibility to his old vices, and to friends like Strange.
Their moods were much alike, then. Although Sidney credited himself with actual responsibilities to the town, and to his brother's family, the fact remained he would have liked to have been spared from saving Tom from himself yet again.
Before he could give Strange his answer, which he would have delivered in the form of lashes had he been in possession of such an enviable instrument, the hotel doors were thrown open, and a self-important harlequin strutted into the bar, three giggling and unchaperoned children following at his pied heels. The jester settled himself jauntily at the counter, and then commenced to mime a very complicated order to the barmaid, who was exhibiting less patience with the charade than even Sidney felt. The children were chased out on the bristle-end of a broom, and the harlequin, still remaining, pantomimed a more reasonable order and sat down to his pint.
Sidney's eyes tracked back to Strange, but he found he was at a loss for words. Instead, he stretched himself forward to take the bottle out of Strange's hand. "You owe me a drink. More than one." The basis for this arithmetic being the glass already sitting drained in front of him. "Is this excitement enough for you, Mr. Strange, or do you require a personal tour of the tiger kennels?"