Seth's mind was in the process of wandering off in Lalaland when a soft-gentle pressure landed on his shoulder and brought him (semi) back to reality, blinking blankly at the old man's gnarled folded hands, then the delicate features of one Daphne Greengrass. Smiling with outmost relief, Seth took her hand into his, liking the familiarity of the soft skin, "Why, certainly Ms. Greengrass," then bid a polite but quick farewell to the old man before following Daphne away, expensive shoes soundless on the carpeted floor. He had not seen her in a while, then again, he had not seen much of friends as of late. Usually, the reasons had been work-related, but lately, it was because Seth was too high or too drunk to even find the front door.
Suddenly, it mattered a lot what Daphne had heard.
Determined to show her that nothing was wrong, because, if nothing else, Seth was still an actor. With deft hands, Seth swiped a drink- champagne, he noted- from the tray of a passing waiter, then stopped. What? Was he just going to down this like he was in the back of some seedy bar? No, Seth prided himself in having more self-control than that, no matter how ironic that sounded. "You're looking well, Daph," he grinned charmingly, forcing his hand not to sway, "What have you been up to now?"