Archibald carefully slid his chair back and rose to his feet. There was a lady present, or at least that was the supposition until the woman in question proved differently. If there was one thing that Archie had mastered over twenty years of unwise drinking, it was maintaining the appearance of gentility when other men might betray their inebriated state. Or at least he had convinced himself this was true, and a little self-delusion went a very long way. He took Ysabel's hand in his and lightly brushed his lips across the back of her fingers before releasing it.<br/><br/>"Archibald Warburton, humbly at your service. I assure you, death has not robbed me of an ounce of appreciation for such beauty." He turned to the gentleman newcomer. "And at your service as well, of course. I'm given to understand that the two of you might be in more or less the same rotten boat as I, and I further understand that my irritating friend here may be able to provide us with a couple of oars. And food sounds like a capital idea." He turned toward Yakzov. "Eggs Benedict, perhaps?"<br/><br/>