[It's perhaps notable that when Jack shows up to the afterparty -- and show up he does, rather like the clockwork that's deviled them all this time but quite late indeed, clad in a complete change of clothing that looks both plainer and more sober than his usual; but at least it doesn't look like something grabbed from the daytime boutique, perish the thought -- he doesn't take the time to deliver greetings except to the bar counter and there...

He does murmur a soft apology to those running the joint, a little repentant about being unable to be here in any particular capacity than one: he'll spend most of his time slowly, dutifully asking for and then downing drinks (though still, he goes for the sweeter ones, rather than the hard liquor; it really is a time for indulgences). One, two, three. Four. Five.

Those passing by will either find him still at it, though they might get a small tilted smile and a not-particularly coherent, half-sung remark--]

Ah, if you're looking for the bar -- the bartender, I'm afraid, I'm afraid that I was here first.

[--but he won't stop anyone else from sitting down, joining him, and so on. The later it gets, though, the more liable he is to be found just plain dozing against the counter, half-curled around a little sheet of notes and his usual pen.]