"The lesser known and better cousin of the pina colada," Five says by way of acknowledgement. He starts to pull the fruit juices out of the bar's fridge, deciding to be economical and make his own drink a pineapple margarita. Less space taken up by ingredients.

"I take it you had a fake I.D. back home?" He asks, as he starts mixing her drink. "Oh, and there are a few ottomans back there that might be easier to sit on if you want. You can drag one over, no one ever cares."