Adrian was a little more comfortable with the change in scenery. It had nothing to do with the dancers or the waitresses and everything to do with the fact that the women in this place knew how to spot a man willing to part with their money. He didn't have to be worried about random's pressing in on him when he was clearly not interested in anything that they had to offer. Responsibility, he supposed, changed ones perspective. While he always knew that this would be his life, he had not expected it to happen so soon.
Making himself comfortable, he kicked up his feet on an empty chair on the other side of the booth and took in the dancer ahead of them with a casual glance. He supposed she was attractive, but he honestly just wasn't in the mood to appreciate the way she moved. Honestly, he just wanted to go to bed and there was one particular bed he wouldn't mind finding himself in.
Marcus had always been rather impressed with Bletchley. This had been a spectacular idea. One stop shop, sort of deal, and that was something he could get behind. Flirting with a waitress on their way to the table, he happily sank down on the other side of Clint. "Now these are choices," he grinned, eyeing a lovely little blonde serving a few tables over. Usually the waitresses didn't find themselves in the private rooms, but he was sure she'd made an exception. If she didn't like those private rooms, he had a few of his own she could choose from.
"Seriously, if I didn't have Quidditch to see to," he grinned, winking at their particularly attractive waitress as she took their orders, "I'd live here."