Yeah. [kavinsky is less interested in the women on display, at work, and more in the way that sarah looks at them. interesting. his eyes crinkle a little as he studies her profile, long enough to gauge the chemistry between her and the other woman. but then he's shrugging, nodding.] Guy named Petyr Baelish, [he says.] He's oldschool.

This shit is his aesthetic. [he jerks his chin at the floor. and then starts toward the private rooms in the back, waving at the nearest suit. he introduces himself-- a couple brusque words, and apparently he matches his description enough to warrant entry into a private room. a bouncer holds the door open for them and everything. kavinsky cocks his head at sarah.]

You want one of the girls? Or bottle service, some shit?