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Lobster Hut, Thursday Evening

Apparently 'lobster rolls' were a summer thing? In New England, at least, and while Lydia was reasonably certain they weren't in New England, far be it from her to argue with tradition or whatnot, and she had duly selected the Lobster Hut for this week's Supper Club.

She feared this was going to be messy, but she had come prepared with her least favorite summer dress.

Welcome to Supper Club, everyone! The Lobster Hut is open, and full of lobster!

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"Flint, that poor staffer is not making enough to insist, I'm pretty sure," Adrian offered.

Flint smirked. "I'm fairly certain as well," he admitted.

"So, mostly just staying in practice?" he suggested.

"Exactly," Flint said. "Most people here don't find me that intimidating. It's odd."

"I promise, it's the caliber of people who have changed, not the quality of your intimidation," Adrian promised.

"Thank you," Flint said with dignity. "I'm quite feared in my time."

What with all the murders.

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