Sam laughs at Charlie's joke and nods, satisfied with the unicorn's answer. Speaking of Spring Court, something was nipping at the back of Barkley's brains...that woman, with the pale skin over there- that one had been at Harry's funeral. He feels a bit of a git for not catching that earlier. He'd have to have a short word with her, no pun intended. Back to the matter at hand, though.
"Good, glad to hear it. We can use all the help we can get and, whereas we're not short of warriors, the only good driver we had..." Sam's expression darkens. "Was Harry, our fallen Sovereign. Taken out by Loyalist scum I executed meself." Barkley takes out one of his business cards and jots down: Four Seasons <date and time>. He slides it across the table. "Spring is soon. That's where the ceremony will be held. Be there." He sips his bourbon. "You got any questions fer me, then?"