Mardi Gras is celebrated in September in Cardiff, but that doesn't stop Ianto from observing it tonight, since it's coming up elsewhere in the world and all.
"So it does and so I am," grins the the man with the painted skull. "The bar is very good at making sure one gets into the spirit of things, especially if one would otherwise forget to do so."
Joe isn't particularly in the Mardi Gras spirit--he isn't particularly aware of most holidays in the bar, parties overwhelm him very quickly--but he is thirsty after a hard shift of work outside, and since he's earning some money, why not enjoy a drink?
The specials don't ring any bells with him, though.
"I'd like coffee, then," he says, hoping it's better than the scorched muddy water they used to serve in the trenches. But then, he's yet to have any food or drink here that wasn't good, even just very simple things.
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He slides over the cup, along with sugar bowl and cream pitcher.
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The specials don't ring any bells with him, though.
"What would you recommend?" he asks.
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Yep. He's that good.
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