Irahl's boots get summarily tossed into the slightly-more-tidy-than-Vincent's-pile-but-it's-still-a-pile pile near his side of the bed. After that, he takes a minute to sit there and run Vincent's question through his mental eye.

He still doesn't quite understand all of the implications and associations with this new brunch concept, but he has picked up a sort of vibe throughout the day. He has at least gathered that it seems to be something that the upper half of the city would partake in and the lower half wouldn't bother.

"...Going to tell him how pink your drink was?"