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This, he thinks, has to be a decent bachelorette party.

Maybe not for the average bride, maybe other people out there want strippers and sashes that read BRIDE-TO-BE and phallic decorations, but Peggy had made it very clear to John that she wanted none of that.

So he'd rented out a bar. An entire bar. The guest list isn't particularly extensive, they don't need the entire bar, but he'd seen no reason not to do it anyway. It means they have the entire place to themselves, they can control the music, and the bartender has only them to serve. And John has paid a flat fee for the bartender and the serving staff, plus given them a significant tip, so they're attending the party perfectly.

The bar is nice, with comfortable chairs and several pool tables, as well as a well stocked jukebox that he thinks has just about anything someone might think to play. Maybe not Dutch, she probably knows songs none of them have ever heard before, but there's probably plenty on the jukebox she'll still enjoy.

There are appetizers, lots of them, covering just about any option a person could want. The same goes for alcohol.

All in all, for someone not all that inclined toward attending parties, he thinks he's done a fairly good job capturing something Peggy will enjoy. And that's the point of tonight, giving her a party to celebrate her future and everything that's to come with people she enjoys spending time with.

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Lucky for Peggy, she's sober. She doesn't plan to be the whole evening, but she's glad that she is when she comes across Tony because there are some embarrassing situations that she doesn't want to put herself in and one of them so happens to be getting drunk in front of your friends' son.

She settles on the pool table, perching with her drink and tugging the straw towards her, eyeing Tony and the lack of a challenger. "I'm not sure this is much fun, playing by yourself," she notes. "Care for someone to keep you occupied while you win?"

"What's not fun about proving yourself right?" Tony asked, playing the egotist, even though Peggy was too canny not to see right through him. It was habit. It was also at least partially in earnest. He liked playing himself almost as much as playing someone else.

He was also a few drinks in, but only enough to feel pliable and, for once, relaxed.

"But I don't mind the company, no. You look good under the drop lights, Peg. Throw a little hazy cigar smoke in and you'd be right out of some hardboiled detective flick. Maybe we'll rent you an old Lincoln Cosmo and tie some cans to it so I can take photos and add hilarious old timey filters to them. "

Peggy laughs at that, given that she'd lived through the era of detective movies, as far as she's discovered, though she never did like that the woman in them was always cast as either the villain or the helpless assistant. She wanted to be the detective.

"Your father once offered me a role in his movies as the damsel, in a cowboy picture," she recalls. "I told him that I'd be in, if he cast me as the cowboy." As to the rest of what he's saying, she's not sure, but it sounds like a silly little hobby to indulge. "I wish that he and Jarvis were here. Ana, as well, and Angie. It would be so good to have the lot of them here to celebrate."