Alexander had made no such complicated decisions about what he was going to wear. He was dressed exactly as he would have if he were going into work back home. Although of course he had noticed that some of his fellow old-timers had made something of at least a partial transition to more modern clothes (Crawley more so than Darcy), he felt comfortable and confident as he was. Even if the tails coats were apparently something of a distraction to at least one resident.
He'd selected a table, deliberately not opting for a booth or anything too hidden away, and placed down the notebook and surprisingly modern ballpoint pen. Carrying ink about when he might not even end up taking any notes seemed like overkill when the pens worked just fine for his personal scribbles. He went about ordering their drinks, and if it had been Bucky working the counter, he might've felt more secure.
As he took them back over to the table, he heard Maryanne's greeting and looked up, giving her a quizzical look. "Oh? What have I done now?" he asked, giving her a very quick look up and down. The way the women dressed here was still taking a little getting used to, but he had managed not to get himself slapped yet, so he assumed he was dealing with it all as well as could be expected. Then he hovered, waiting on her sitting first as was engrained in cultural habit.