Flaming bottles and lost shoes in tacky heaven
When we left off last night we were on our way to two agents’ parties, conveniently located right at our own hotel. How thoughtful.
So we get to the first. You’ve all been to parties like this. Groups of suits chatting together in little circles. No-one breaking out of their little group. You, wondering whether you had accidentally put on your invisibility cloak. It was the tail end of the party. A drably lit room, with a small bar and a harassed waiter struggling to keep up with the drinks requests. No food, unless you count a few peanuts on a table. No-one spoke to us. And we don’t even look like lawyers.
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