Thomas smirked behind his mask, looking to his full glass of champagne with a casual demeanor.

"Alright," he said, turning back to Alice,"my name is Thomas Linder. I've lived in New York my entire life, long as it has been. My life has not been the most exciting these past years, well, by normal standards anyway, and isn't really worth chatting about regardless of what standard you relate to." He gave a slight sniff behind his mask and looked back to his champagne, the fizz having died from it.

"Now then, he said,"turning to Alice once more,"your turn. Tell me your name and, if you'd like, a little about yourself. Only if you'd like." He said assuredly.

Further down the bar, a lone patron seated himself on the the stool farthest to the left, sitting alone.
He wore a solid white suit, with a matching white undershirt, tie, gloves, and a vest. His shoes were solid black, the only diverse piece of his clothing, Italian leather dress shoes. 
On his face, he wore a solid white mask, whiter than the snow's of a New York winter. The mask covered his entire face, and was rather plain aside from the eye cuttings, which were angled downward sharply like the eyes of some cat or fantasy creature. His hair, black and wavy, hung loose yet was tamed, and reached to his shoulders, the end strands tight with curls.

"Good evening sir, what can I get you?" Came the chirpy voice of the bartender, a young woman with long black hair tied into a pointy tail, her face bearing a chipper smile.

"Red wine," came his dry reply, his voice smooth and oily,"Biblia Chora if you have any."

"Yes sir," the bartender replied brightly,"coming right up."
As she reached for a bottle of red wine from beneath the bar, the man in white turned his hidden gaze down the bar, past a several patrons, looking casually though interested in Alice and Thomas's direction.