Sweeney gives zero fucks if she disapproves, but he at least has the decency to blow the smoke of the last long drag away from her as he flicks the remnants down the hall. He gestures to the door, that she might lead the way.
She gives the door an extra little shove to make sure it stays open long enough for him to grab it, meandering back in. She's not sure how she feels about the Lounge. It's an almost uncompromisingly adult space. It makes her feel itchy in a way she can't describe.
"Norm'lly at the bar." He sounds noncommittal; it's not that he minds tables or booths, but he doesn't fit at them very well. And sitting at the bar gets you faster service.
"But if ya rather somewhere else, I don't mind."
Sweeney just wants to talk. He's flexible as to the circumstance.
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And he is. A touch early, finishing a cigarette outside the door. Whether or not it's actually locked remains untested.
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Hey. Uh. Shall we?
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"After you, Warden."
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"Where you want to sit?"
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"But if ya rather somewhere else, I don't mind."
Sweeney just wants to talk. He's flexible as to the circumstance.