One thing James seemed to have made a habit of at his 30th birthday party on board the privately chartered
Spirit of New York luxury yacht was reminding people who wished him happy birthday that he was actually 29 for another four days. It could've been denial, but more of a fact that he had the weight of some unverbalised life decisions on his mind. It seemed reminding
himself he had a small window of time which he could suddenly find the answers was more the likely motive behind it.
Still, the party was a great success. There would've been close to 150 people squeezed onto the boat for the celebration, consisting of family and friends. James hadn't for the life of him been able to see everyone, and in fact had only managed a small portion of greetings before the guests had been called to an extravagant four course meal. James had been firmly lodged at the head table, though the entire time he'd spent catching Izzy's eyes across the room. She'd been seated with Ali (who spent the entire time glaring eyeball daggers at Mark's wife across the room) and the rest of the FBI crew.
The meal was now well and truly over and the tables cleared in favour for a large dancefloor and a life DJ who had many classic disco and rock tunes belting out over the sound system. People were dancing, chatting, laughing and having the time of their lives. James now found himself oddly monopolised on the dancefloor by Felicity, Mark's wife. She had latched onto his arm and kept him dancing for the last three songs. Every time he tried to politely excuse himself, she laughed and tightened her grip on his arm. He wasn't exactly sure what it was all about (though he had a sneaking feeling it was Ali related) because Felicity had never much liked James, but he made himself a promise he was getting out of her clutches when the song ended if it killed him.