Oh, Walter's awareness missed nothing, not a single unique gait that shook the dance floor, not the cacophony of voices that his mind was splitting and separating by origin, not the way light glinted on cutlery and accessories and buttons and clasps and buckles, and not the way shadows moved with their sources. As if he half-expected them to misbehave.
Exhausting.
So it was a small, delightful boon that a beautiful man's eyes traveled over him without apprehension, and a smile curved that full mouth, adding a spark of daring to the inspection. The southerner was not in the very least subtle about the watching bit, so, when that crimson gaze had reached Walter's face, Walter's eyes briefly flicked to meet it, head on, without him switching posture. A smile touched the corners of the lord's mouth, and his eyelids lowered closed, casting a faint shade from the eyelashes.
"Lovely. I think I can catch the scent of cardamom, cloves and honey, so it must be sweet. I've a weakness for sweet brandys. Forgive me, then, for sourwisp liquor is only second favorite of mine, yet a staple of my home of Bremen."
He followed up that motion smoothly, by taking his seat. His posture was idly, casually schooled - no hunching back, no slouching shoulders. If someone asked him in this moment - he was relaxing. He cast another look to Aelius that brushed up the neck to one of the earrings, strayed to the mouth and met the eyes again. And - drifted to the drink, then to the exorcist.
Truly, a lovely sight through and through, exotic, balanced in the features, seeming to radiate with a comfortable resonance that passed right around the obscurata without touching. But the sunshine disposition was enough. The sparkly glances and grins were enough. Good show. If the boy was as daring as the Captain out there, Walter would have to retreat before
he'd embarrass himself. The key feature of his upbringing, truly. Look and don't get caught looking.
"How long have you played?"
"Oh," the baron chuckled, the polite smile parting his lips, baring a hint of fangs a touch too large and covering them in the same beat.
"I'm pleased, but I owe it all to my tutors, of which two had to suffer me. I'm glad that it provided the wherewithal to those who surely can now bear no shame in playing worse nor cause harm in playing better. I'd rather sing, and the liquor is to that end," he chuckled, again, gloved hand resting on the tabletop.
His focus on the exorcist was much less pure aesthetic admiration and more of a curiosity for detail. The simple folds of clothing hid layers, the perk of the twitching ears nor tail was certainly not commonplace. How quaint, too, the shapes that made the air shiver around him with shreds of weave bleeding through. Walter did not look into that deeper - he'd already seen.
“I've just finished my tea, after all. It seems only fair to give your drink a chance.”
The lord's face brightened. It was not a subtle baring of fangs in a promise of a bite. It was like a rare clearing of the parting clouds to the skies that were forever shades of clear, pure, heart-lifting blue. A different smile, a pleased one. Those early lines on his face were a little fainter for a moment.
"Wait," his hand shot up, calling the attention.
"Common propriety in Altalusia calls for you to pour the drink yourself, but I happen to know that in the east it is the host's duty. Let us try and resolve this thusly. By plaguing the man who can't man the front door properly. Reginald, come! I've use for you!"
He had very little desire to suffer society alone, and his attendant was on duty by technicality.
It took a bit and a stutter, and almost a ripple of passed voices until Reggie almost jumped from the table he was at, and, quick like a very tall lizard, slinked over, only for Walter to point at the bottle.
"We're sharing liquors. Given the station, I cannot rightly pour. Consider this your discipline."
Reggie swayed a little, with a hushed shuffle of breath fully pulled into his lungs through nose alone - perhaps, in an attempt to stifle a motion in the throat, or sober up. In the short span of... several hours that Walter had been absent from this whole affair, the attendant had made great progress. At least, if one were to judge by his flushed cheeks, and ears, and neck, and that glint in his eye betraying that whatever he said would come out with a slur.
Thankfully, no words had been shed, and the attendant managed to keep his balance just for the few seconds enough to pour the cup. No swaying, running right into the table, or spilling the precious alcohol. Because it was precious here, every commodity that had to travel for weeks, all the way, and thus be paid for and planned for weeks in advance.
Walter's eyes fixated on Momoshiro with interest, flicked off to the attendant, and he indicated his own small glass, and Aelius' flask. A jet eyebrow shot upward slightly - what exactly was the hold up?
Attention refocused, while the drink poured. Violet eyes studied the fox man's features. The way the drink was tried, and savored, and analyzed. Tried to catch the precise beat when the spice would kick in, when sweetness would bloom with a hint of freshness to the tongue. And then he relaxed, and eyed the golden liquid in his own cup with a smile. The easterner was cartainly polite in not offering a negative opinion when there was no positive one.
"You are very courteous, indeed," the baron echoed to the sentiment, and waved over the concern for timing.
"Oh, but tomorrow's far away!" He turned his head, eyes a devilish dark glint, the name drawn out like contract signature - of the kind that's rendered in blood.
"Reginald, you may have leave and clean conscience - after you've gathered at least four samples for Momoshiro's teas. You may seek help from Anthea - if she is awake. Or Illyn - even if the man is in his cups, he has a whole week ahead of him. If you bother Percival before specific requisitions are formulated, you get ten willows in the stables. Manage, and all is forgiven. Go."
A man at the door should manage folk. Request credentials, let through the expected ones and avoid letting anyone get a jump on the lord within his own domain. Failing that ended in a failed attempt scar or a few. Reginald was still green in the gills, it seemed.
"Your health!" The baron raised the Arshakan brandy up, eyed Momshiro, Aelius, let his gaze briefly linger on the latter as he tasted the concoction. The warmth hit him where he was vulnerable, going through his throat into his chest and leaving a delectable trail of spices. Eyes sunk closed for a moment as it spread.
"Quite." He let a half-pause linger, and offered a bright grin.
"Quite good! I would not imagine it without some food lest we turn bitter drunks, but it's so sweet that it should last us quite a while before we turn bitter for its absence, instead!"
SLAM!
Walter's face dropped. There was a brief, jolting moment when his breath clearly stopped, and his eyes and head snapped to the source of an unnaturally loud thud. Moments later, his features eased. He chuckled under his breath, and watched Agatha arm in arm with Dorothea, before the Huntress was stolen by another man... one of the knights that arrived just in time to get these last shreds of revelry before hard work. There were no latecomers, not to this effort - but certainly those not spared the same levity come the next morning.
“It seems some people have decided that tomorrows troubles can wait until tomorrow.”
Walter's smile turned wistful. He took another mouthful of brandy, and tried to offset the bitter tension in his own chest to those words.
He knew that the Captain had her moments, too. But he'd been here first. Not that he was sleeping any better before Arpa. All revelry did is put a door between him and everything that troubled him until it opened in the morning under the duty's weight.
"Commonfolk's virtue," he mused.
"Tell me, you two of the south and the east. If I were to live to my silver years, and decide to travel for whimsy - what would be the best sights worth making the journey for? Which things, simple or delicate, that come from Arshaka and Aetochi, should a man eat and drink before he is allowed to call his life properly lived, in your opinion?"
