Even if there isn't a set pattern to Lorne's checking up on his regulars, some might argue there's at least a method to his man about town madness. After all, who in their right minds would keep such a club going so long, never mind remembering all the different quirks of his patrons?

Speaking of quirks and patrons; before long, Lorne reaches one of his most favorite, most rarefied regulars - a tall, tall, gaunt darling of a demon, with deep set eyes hidden partially by halfmoon shaped glasses tinted a dark green. He's wearing what Lorne would bet his horns is an Armani suit, custom tailored to perfection. The white of his shirt and motherofpearlescent tie only emphasizes the matted gray smoothness of his skin.

Yummy.

"Joe! Darling, let me look at you," he beams, throwing his arms out. "So stylish, I'm green with envy." Kiss cheek, kiss cheek.

"You are just fine, aren't you? Nothing amiss, no stray piece of Jarvis end up in your starter?"