Slainte Pub, The Bowery, NYC, Friday

After stopping at the brunch, Romeo made his way to a bar where it seemed vaguely possible the more medieval members of their party would either fit in, or have enough Guinness that it didn't matter.

"Is this all right?" he asked, more as a point of courtesy than because he actually had any interest in going anywhere else. He was feeling lazy and self-satisfied.

[OOC; For those who know who they are.]