He made a show of being quite affronted by the idea that the zoo lacked lions. "Frederick Humphrey-Mavis has a lion," he pointed out. "You mean to tell me his gardens are better equipped than this whole..." He had momentarily lost the world for what this place was, so swept a hand widely through the air to encompass this whole. The animals might not have been the focus of the night but in Don Juan's opinion they were the only novelty of the place; he had bored of the elevated dance floor after two lackluster dances earlier in the night and had only been up a moment ago because it seemed the quickest route to where he'd been going next, which was — he didn't recall. Probably somewhere with booze. Was there a card tent here somewhere? He could stand to sit down and drink and lose some money, he thought; that was a more productive way to self-flagellate than making small talk with Dean Hudson.

"Whatever," he said with a shrug, an exaggerated gesture of indifference. "I'm going to find something dangerous and throw peanuts at it."

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