The crew had performed profitably as of late so Monty had thought it fitting to give them a great reward. He had invited Ishmael but he didn't know whether the vampire would actually join them or not. Monty often thought of the other as being rather cat-like, coming and going as he pleased. If he had to be honest, it was part of what made Ishmael so intriguing.

His mood soured when he realized who had just walked into the pub. A memory from 1880 and 1881 that he would rather forget. He had been younger then, more easily impressed, more easily charmed. Now, he did not see how. He had put up with it embarrassingly long and had really only broken out of it when he realized just how squid-like Ewan was when compared to someone with such feline grace as Ishmael, whom he'd met during his relationship with Ewan. There had been other factors too such as being demanded to cut off friendships he had formed such as with Abernathy and disparaging the gang he was a part of. He had not particularly enjoyed that nor had he ever had any intention of following through. No one told Montgomery Morales what to do.

He had become better off after ditching Ewan. He slept with whomever he wanted, was now leader of his gang and had a rag tag group of do-gooders that he enjoyed heckling but also genuinely liked as human beings. Though he would sooner stick his hand into acid than admit that.

It was like watching a version of himself he did not like as he watched Ewan leave a young man that could have been no older than eighteen behind at the table. Feeling a rare instance of compassion and empathy for a fellow human being, Monty sauntered on over. "I've literally been where you are, you know," he said, helping himself to Ewans drink because honestly... Ewan could screw right off.