John has been... Ruminating. That would be perhaps the best way to describe it. He cannot say that much has happened, these past few weeks, and yet. Enough has done that he finds the need to retreat to the Beefsteak and its quiet comforts every now and again to attempt to collect his thoughts, and in a larger part, himself. Conversations with Claire rattle around in his brain, and now this new ability...

A knock breaks him from his spiraling and he pushes himself to stand, crossing through the halls to answer the door -- there is no staff to do it for him as there might have been at the Beefsteak proper. Gustav trots merrily along behind him, and real or not, John is secretly glad for the ridiculous little dog's company.

Opening the door, John offers the younger man a welcoming smile.

"Ah, not at all," John says. "Welcome to London -- and to the Beefsteak." He offers a somewhat crooked smile as he elaborates, "My club."