Though no stranger to the clubs back home in The Barrel, Kaz, with his usual all-black attire, gloves, and cane, looks out of place in this type of club, full of neon lights, music loud enough to feel the bass vibrate in his chest, and people in questionable states of dress everywhere he turns.

Suffice to say: This was not his idea.

He's perched at the table that he, Jesper and Noah have occupied since they got here. Or. Kaz has occupied the table the entire time, at least. The other two... all these people, the lights, the dancing... it's all much more their scene than his own. He isn't bothered by the times they abandon him, perfectly content to sit by himself with his third glass of whisky.

But one or the other of them, if not both, eventually wander back over to him. "Break time again, is it?" He quips, perking an eyebrow over at whoever slides into the U-shaped booth with him again.