He gave up on his book after yet another stanza of the absolutely filthy song The Coachman's Whip, and, grabbing his cup of what-was-supposed-to-be-coffee, vacated his seat in the center of the room. England was so horrifically... uncooth. He stepped around some drunk trying to stand up and found himself by a window-ledge.
"Pardon, citoyen, do you mind if I sit here?" Jacques asked, to the man whose boots currently took up most of the ledg-space.