Second glass, and he hadn't even finished the full thing yet. That was good, because on the handful of occasions Ford had been with friends who were either dramatically more or less intoxicated than he was he hadn't enjoyed it at all, but this wasn't much of a discrepancy.

He noted the name — Verity would definitely have been cross with him for not recognizing him, which was one of a great many reasons he was glad she didn't have access to Black's. Before he could think too much about that, though, he was mildly distracted by the man's next comment. That was sort of a weirdly antisocial thing to say. Was it a joke? Should he laugh? The stakes were higher if he laughed and it wasn't a joke, he decided, because it might seem like he felt superior or was making fun of the older man. If it was supposed to be a joke and he said nothing, the worst he could be accused of was not having a sense of humor.

"The atmosphere," Ford answered with a grin. Of the two options it was a slightly truer answer, he supposed, because he wasn't waiting for anyone. If Lestrange was going to be here, he probably already would have been. That said, he couldn't claim he really loved the atmosphere of Black's, unless he had the right company. "It's a nice change from a full house, anyway. Quieter."