The host of the restaurant approaches with a smile plastered onto his features. He was a tall man with a thin mustache and he spoke with an obviously affected posh accent. "Hello sir and..." The host's gaze drifts to Noah who he decides to just ignore. "Do you have a reservation?" This is directed at Quentin clearly with the intent of using it as an excuse to get both him, who looked like he belonged and Noah who did not out of the restaurant. Despite the fact that they clearly had tables for two.

"No," Quentin says and the host opens his mouth to make some platitude when Quentin says with a friendly grin. "But I am sure you can find a table for myself and the boy. My name is Quentin North, the Marquise of Edenhall." This was said just loud enough for those present to hear. The moment he said his name and title the murmuring started. Some knew of him thanks to his exploits in the papers alongside the penny dreadfuls about his adventures. But they all knew what his title meant.

The host pauses for a moment with his mouth hanging open as he considers this new information for several moments. Then he coughs and says with absolute difference. "Of course my Lord, right this way." The host actually bows as he indicates which direction Quentin should start walking.