Johnny is miserable to be here, but at least he looks good, in a proper tuxedo with a white bowtie, his hair slicked back, a little makeup on is face to disguise the pallor that he's rocking with how he fucking expects this to go.

For those who pay very close attention, he's armed, his revolver in an inner pocket of his jacket, weighing it down slightly on that side. He didn't want to come tonight, not at all, but if he must...at least he's not totally defenseless in this crowd of murderers.

Sorry, Sarge. He remembers the advice he was given. But tonight's a special occasion.