Levin permitted himself a smile as he watched Berg, surprisingly light on his feet for a big man, dance with Chasity. The Adler brothers would probably give him an earful for that. But Levin was an aging man, and he took vicarious pleasure in the young. If Chasity could have a good time here, great, if Berg could loosen up a little, even better. He took a contented sip of his Pimm's. 

The small sips became surprised gulps when Levin saw who was coming through the door. Tom Flowers. God's fucking gift to gangsters. Levin sighed inwardly and downed his drink. If he had to put up with that uncouth braggart, Levin was going to need a stronger drink. This time, he waved over the bartender. "A Gibson, please," he asked. "Gordon's gin, of course, and exactly three onions. Very, very dry. In fact, as far as vermouth goes, just wave the glass in the general direction of Italy." Levin lit a cigarette as he anxiously watched the man make his entrance.

It wasn't all that long ago that Hyde Park and the Shaftesbury Firm had been at war with one another. Levin had lost a couple lads in that particular conflict. The word had been that Flowers was largely responsible for the truce, but in Levin's mind, trusting old enemies to keep their word was a little too much. Chamberlain had tried that, and look where that had ended up.

Levin had more than once done business with the Unione, vicious Corsican gangsters who ran most of Southern France behind the scenes. The Corse had a saying: a Christian forgives, only a fool forgets. Levin was Jewish, of course, and he certainly did not consider himself a fool.

Besides, even if Flowers wasn't an old foe, he was a petty vulgarian, an uncouth man who grew up poor and without class. A chazzer, in the Yiddish. You can put a chazzer in a Henry Poole suit, slap a Longines watch on his wrist and put him behind the wheel of a Bentley- won't matter. Still a chazzer. 

Though, to be fair, Flowers dressed and lived quietly, without flash. Levin gratefully took his drink and had a reflective sip. Maybe they were more similar than he thought, maybe Flowers was a man worth knowing. Maybe it'd be worth it to be friendly with the man- not friends, of course, but friendly. Speaking terms, at best. Just enough to know the measure of the man.

His reverie was interrupted as Berg (looking a little too grateful to be finished) returned Miss Adler to the bar. Flowers had worked his way over. Chasity, bless her, spared Levin the awkwardness of trying to figure out a personal introduction. Excellent.

Levin made his move, a calculated gesture. It had to be friendly, but not familiar- a delicate balance. He extracted his cigarette case, handed one to Berg as a reward for showing Chasity a good time. Then, as an affected afterthought, he stretched the open case towards the Shaftesbury man. "May I offer you a cigarette, Flowers?"