they laughing at the top like they can't see the bottom

Mateo

Champagne, cocaine, gasoline
and most things in between

"Specimens it is," Mateo trills, pushing aside the seedlings he's just finished repotting and setting down his margarita to retrieve a flask of Torchline's healing water, using it to drench the soil and offer thirsty roots the best start in their new home. "I have a skyboat where most of them are kept these days - you can see it moored just above The Wildering House. The schooner covered in lavender," he explains, in case Finch ever feels the need to go poking about a little closer to his current lodgings. "You can come with me there or I can meet you back here in a few hours - whatever suits you best."

As for the swill, the botanist lets out a musical laugh and reaches across to willingly accept a sip of Torchline's finest dishwater. "I am a liar," he tells him earnestly (and ironically, he supposes), taking a generous mouthful and wincing it down whilst raising the cup in a cheers. "But this is my sister's bar, so I do consider it the best swill on offer," he adds, voice roughened by the liquor.

When it comes to handsome men offering to buy drinks, though, Mateo glances around as if looking for the man in question, before flashing Finch a dimpled grin. "It is only me, alas," he croons, gesturing behind the bar. "Pick your poison though, if you like. It will only cost your name."

I roam the city in a shopping cart
a pack of Camels and a smoke alarm