Lorne waved off the money. The vibes he was getting were interesting enough that he could front the guy some scotch, long as he tipped the wait staff.
"You're in the City," Lorne said brightly. "With a capital C and that rhymes with T, and you've got trouble." He pressed his lips into a line. "It's not L.A. It's not Metropolis. Or Gotham. Or London. Or Washington, D.C., or anywhere else you might think it is. It just is. And it's ostensibly in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by a wall. Outside the wall, we got greenery galore. But you can't really get beyond the wall, and you can't leave, unless the City decides to let you."
He shrugged.
"It's sentient. The streets move, at least. There are things here from other places, just like there are people from other places. Take my club," he said, looking around, then back to Jack. "Exactly the same as it was in L.A." He smiled. "But we're not in Kansas anymore."