[Champagne is... fine. Sunday should take some as well, if only to look the part, otherwise he might begin to raise suspicions with this young lady about his true identity and his lack of belonging in the lounge. So he does, stem of the glass delicate between his gloved fingers — but in truth he doesn't really wish to drink it. Anything that would alter his senses feels wrong in this setting, regardless of how minor.]
No, well, you shouldn't be. It isn't good for your health.
[Not that it ever would have mattered in the Dreamworld of Penacony. Here, though, they aren't indulging in their dreams.]
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No, well, you shouldn't be. It isn't good for your health.
[Not that it ever would have mattered in the Dreamworld of Penacony. Here, though, they aren't indulging in their dreams.]
May I ask your name?