James Potter was, by this point, used to arriving in placed he didn't know. He'd been to several that spanned his life and death and it didn't bother him at all. He walked around the lounge as if he belonged there, after checking he had his most important items on him. Wand. Cloak. Snitch. Sorted.

He pops down at the bar and realises, once again, he's going to have to reinvent his own drink. Sighing, he doesn't order anything and simply watches other people, deciding who to approach. Should be fun!