The Duchess

[jammi]

Maloney nodded to acquiesce and gently took one of the expensive tubes in his hand. He sniffed it - he could hardly be considered a concessioner, but certain the products of certain family lines seemed to have very distinct smells. He took a stab at it and guessed one of the more expensive brands.

"I say, m'lord - is this a Goldberg Rich? Much obliged in any case." He bit the correct end off, then fished around inside his dinner jacket's inner pocket for a lighter. Finding it, he offered it up to the young lord first. "After you, of course."

Upon receiving the tool back, he lit his own cigar and settled further down into one of the plush, comfy leather armchairs that surrounded the fireplace. The fire itself was roaring, being fed by actual Cambridge wood. There was nothing for a room's ambience like an actual wood fire - electric and plasma heaters simply weren't up to snuff.

"Y'know, it really is a fine establishment Greyhound administers here. How long have you chaps been at it now? 10, 20 years? I dare say the Royalists made a good decision when they gave you fellows the contract for it. From what I've heard, the previous lot rather let things slide."

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