When his new leather boots hit cobblestone once more, he looked around the seemingly abandoned alley to try to figure out their location. Graham was only used to frequenting Falmouth pubs.

It was dark, but Graham could still tell it was dingy. "Mostly pureblood? Are you sure?" he asked skeptically, noting the chipped paint on the door. Back alley pubs weren't typically his style, but he supposed things changed a bit once Lord Voldemort was defeated and the purebloods went under the radar once more.

He followed Theo into the establishment, and then his blue eyes went wide as he realized why, exactly, this place was so well-hidden. He couldn't help but grin as he watched one of the dancers spread eagle on her pole. "You're a smarmy fucker, Nott. Get us a table. Preferably one with a smashing view."

He then noticed dozens of heads had turned-- not only the dancers, but the female bartenders, the cocktail waitresses as they spotted two strapping young wizards in obviously expensive clothing. As a cocktail waitress approached them to seat them, he saw in her eyes a combination of seduction and galleon signs. It was already shaping up to be a top notch night, and he had much to celebrate.