Erik huffed a quiet chuckle, sliding onto the stool beside him as its occupant vacated it. "I do, actually," he said. To wit: his presence in the Smoking Room, though Jordan had declined to join him. He wasn't sure he knew how to spend the early evening anywhere else anymore. The mundanity of it ought to have bothered him more than it did.

Max returned with the stranger's drink, and greeted Erik with a nod and a murmured, "Mr. Lehnsherr—" rather eloquently proving his point about bad habits, if he thought about it. He nodded at the rocks glass in the blind man's hand. "One of the same, please." It looked like scotch. No reason to start slow; the way people were pouring in, he'd be lucky to get a refill before the hour was up.

While he waited, he glanced at his neighbor again. "I'd ask if this is your first time here, but I think I already know the answer."