He is by now, at least, and he takes the hint, swarming his way to the front of the crowd in the way that only Alexander knows how. He's already made a couple of quick texts to the upstairs drones, preparing them for a flood. "Now, my sweetlings, you know we can't work nearly as fast with your lovely presence distracting us, so if you just toddle upstairs for five minutes, Mattie and Gill have brought down a bottle of sours, and there'll be a shot for everyone on the house to make up for the inconvience." Actually, he told them to take their time getting said bottle, but it's enough to cause a stampede, even if the backseat mechanic takes one last look before following the herd.

"There, my darling, now you can work your magic without all those little inconveniences." He smiles sweetly at Charley, the magic part of that sentiment absolutely a part of his regular speech pattern (except that this is Charley and it absolutely isn't, any more than his new wardrobe is just a change of style). "You can fix it, right?" He adds, with a little tinge of worry. A new deck will be rather more expensive than a couple of bottles of sours - and he'll have to put his Eurovision parties on hold.