Romeo gave it a little thought. What he had initially been planning was a very intimate birthday celebration (him and Winston at The Plaza with not a scrap of clothing in sight) had slowly turned into the idea of maybe making it something more memorable. A little soiree, perhaps. "Probably about 150, I'm thinking. Give or take." 'Little soiree' in Romeo's language would never actually be anything little. If he was going to do something, he was going to do it big and loud. There were just two bitches he was seriously accidentally on purpose forgetting to add to the guest list. Shit, what was Winnie's favourite colour? Favourite colour...? Crap. "Of course, I don't need you to make a cake for that many people. Just do whatever you think will look fabulous, darling. We won't actually be serving it at the party. Winston will have it for himself to take home. How about we add another larger cake to cater for the masses? Just something standard and pretty. Whatever you think. He was raised by hippies, just make it as colourful as you can." Nice save, Romeo.

They probably hadn't been together long enough to know all the intimate details. That much he could admit. But now he was wondering what all Winston's 'deets' were beyond the actual medical emergency issues Romeo had made Winston write down in case he was at risk of anaphylactic shock or something. "It's Romeo. Romeo Dalton," he said with a smile, taking out one of his flashy business cards and handing it over to her so she had all his details. "Broadway will be singing your praises from the rooftop, I guarantee."