I’m getting a perverse amount of enjoyment from thinking about Byron busting in on important conversations between regulars at the White Star Bar to whine that he doesn’t have a bar, and their ever-increasing frustration with him and then Lyta just like, “Remember Byron, guys?” when he’s not there and I just want Londo - all sequins, and gold, and fur, and silk cravats and in the middle of explaining that he most certainly is not responsible for the latest thing he’s been accused of - who has previously just ignored it, had a drink, shrugged and called it not his problem, just puffing up like a bothered house cat and howling at her.
“YES. YES, WE DO. IT WAS THREE DAYS AGO, IT IS NOT TERRIBLY DISTANT, ARE YOU PART GOLDFISH? THE MOMENT IS GONE, I AM TRYING TO LOOK PLAUSIBLY INNOCENT AND YOU ARE RUINING IT, JUST GET YOUR OWN BAR!”
