Theo began to knock the drinks back faster, and suddenly Fletcher wasn't so certain that the small plate he'd force fed the man still stood between him and a night spent holding Theo's hair back. But there was only one way to learn this particular lesson, and Theo was a grown man, and he'd work through it one way or another. Still, Fletch didn't realize just how tipsy the man had become until he placidly allowed himself to be pulled along by a complete stranger. Fletch followed along dutifully into a much quieter room.
He quickly realized what this was: men escaping their women for a moment of peace. If they hadn't all been nobility, he'd have felt at ease. Hell, they even treated him like one of them, here. As it was, though, he couldn't let his guard down entirely — but he did relax a bit now that they were finally out of sight of the girl. He declined the cigarette, opting to pull out his own case instead.
"I'll not turn down a smoke inside, though," he chuckled. "Thanks. And, er, Daw. Jack Daw." He busied himself lighting his smoke and leaned back against the wall, glancing briefly at Theo, who seemed to have gotten progressively more drunk in the last few minutes alone. Well. Fletch supposed carrying him to the carriage was one way out of this place. He returned his attention to Ginger and allowed a sly grin to break his usual ornery scowl.
"Been there. Done that. Can't recommend it, chaps, honestly. One good thing about being a widower, though: it's a great excuse to be a rake. No one looks twice at you for it."
