Dean watched in silent amusement as Dempsey dithered on about the other man who looked about as charming as an eel. Dean was dragging out his own cigarette, taking slow puffs and blowing smoke rings into the night air of the garden while Dempsey dispatched with him as easily as Dean had lied to the pretty debutante inside. Two sides of the same coin or some nonsense, however the phrase went. (Dean was a linguist at heart, but he was feeling ambiguous tonight.)

"Great lengths to get me alone," Dean leaned back against the railing of the terrace behind him, still holding his cigarette aloft as he eyed Dempsey carefully. This was a precarious place to have this conversation, but they were both good enough at coding conversations that hopefully nobody was paying to close attention to a couple of gents having a smoke in the garden. He wasn't nearly as relaxed as he was trying to exude, but hopefully Dempsey didn't know that. "I had your coat cleaned, it's hanging in my closet."