Dagon arrives, following Wash.

The great escape was hatched. Devoted guards given the slip, Ian's expertise in such matters of invaluable aid. Then the night was to begin. Already the duo, along with a few other bodies, have made their way from a number of taverns and other noteworthy establishments. The festivities began at the Hundred Cities Inn in the Ward of the Lyceum and after a few hours of drinking and merriment. Onward the pair, accompanied by a band of musicians, paid a visit to the Judgment Green. What better way to spend an afternoon and evening than to watch a bunch of people freeze in the snow, while heatedly debating some point or another? Eventually that got boring, so the ensemble went onward to the Queensrest Inn so that they could pay proper respects to the dignitaries there. Eventually they were given a prim and proper request for their departure, and respectfully they did so! It is a couple hours before midnight when Lord Ian Kennex and Marquis Hadrian Mazetti come stumbling into the Golden Hart Social Club and Gaming House. Hadrian's uninjured arm thrown over Ian's shoulders while the band plays in their wake. The music is upbeat with tamborines, lutes, and other cheerfully optimistic sounds. The wine bottle in Hadrian's hand hangs beneath Ian's chin and judging by the fact that the Marquis was in the process of lifting the bottle to Ian's mouth? It's likely safe to assume that he's keeping the Kennex lord well hydrated. Sort of.

Upon crossing the threshold and shuffling inward, Hadrian calls out, "Lord Ian's here! Come meet Ian!"

The band plays on with grinning faces and their wide-brimmed hats.

Quiet, a Valardin champion, Aioni, a regal snowy white owl arrive, following Katarina.

Lydia turns from a seat at the bar with a grin as wide as Arx. "By all the gods and goddesses, Ian! As I live and breathe!" She's dressed down for the occasion, no gowns and adornments tonight and from the rosy glow to her cheeks it seems she's got a head start on the evening herself.

"... Which was when an owl landed right over where Aethan was standing and started hooting," Ian is talking, between drinks, to Hadrian. "Porter thought Aethan was telling him the husband was -right there-. Crap." Ian should not walk and talk at the same time. Ian should ESPECIALLY not walk and talk at the same time after drinking as much as he's drunk. He stumbles, not for the first time tonight, and this is probably why he and Hadrian are walking so close together.

Orazio is not in his formal robes. Or any robes at all, as it happens, and the only designator of his affiliation with the Faith is a single, simple ring on his finger. Otherwise, tonight Orazio is all Lycene nobleman, in scandalously well-tailored bronze silks. He caught up with the party sometime about the Queensrest, garnering disapproving stares from the staff, but has remained on the fringes of the revelry, drinking glasses of wine and watching more than participating in the amusements. It's possible that Orazio has forgotten /how/ to party. But he's here, right? "I've already met him," he points out to Hadrian. "But I do have a gift for him, which is almost the same thing."

Desiree arrives wearing a gown. She takes a look around and with a confident smile and approaches Ian and Hadrian. "Hello we met once kind of, but this place is more entertaining."

Wash is dragging Duke Tyde after him, arriving in a fiacre and leaving his driver outside, he bring the Duke in for the ribaldry. "...practically his brother. Most nights he probably thinks he's looking after me, he's always had that sort of somber serious air about him. But you couldn't tell Ian to take the stick out of his butt for fear that he'll beat you half to death with it afterward. The young man was a terror with a blade when he was only fourteen."

Dagon has joined the a handsome wooden bar with steel footrest and swivel barstools.

Lucita shivers a little after walking into the door. She steps over toward the fireplace and extends her hands to warm them a little before sliding her cloak off. Turning to face others in the room while listening to the musicians, she seeks out familiar visages with a sweeping glance. A polite smile is on her lips and her eyes glint with amusement.

Walking into the Golden Path in the wake of the Kennex Admiral is Dagon Tyde, wearing a slick and well crafted pair of duel breeches as well as a tailored shirt of blood tinged sea foam. At Wash's words Dagon offers a smile and an inclination of his head in understanding. "To be skilled at so young is a talent indeed."

"Yes!" Hadrian's laughter follows shortly after Ian's revelation within the tale. Orazio's approach however causes Hadrian to come to a halt, who works intently to focus his eyes on the Legate. He tilts his head to one side before he leans forward in order to have a better look at Orazio, "You're not Captain Judgmental tonight? Huh...", Hadrian seems genuinely surprised before he adds, "My Main Man O-razzle." Hadrian nods appreciately at the Legate before his attention shifts to both Desiree and Lydia, both of them receive a gesture from Hadrian's wine bottle, attached to the arm that remains slung around Ian's shoulders, "Now those two? Mmmmm," what that means, who knows. Ian though receives a nudge as Hadrian attempts to urge him in the direction of the pair. Meanwhile, he leans back. Way back. His eyebrows waggling a touch.

Wash gets close enough to make introductions. "Marquis Hadrian Mazetti, this is Duke Dagon Tyde. Duke, this is the Marquis, and this is Ian Kennex." He claps Ian on the shoulder. "This is Legate Orazio. And ..." He looks over Lydia and Desiree. "I don't know either of these two ladies." Wash gets through introductions as quickly as possible so that he can place an order for a drink without being rude. Because that's the point of the night for him, the drinking.

"Oh, I'm judging," Orazio says, serenely. "Particularly that nickname, Marquis. How do you come up with these?" He shakes his head, and waves down a server to refill his wine glass. Despite his steady drinking, Orazio's voice and pace is steady. Steadier, even. "But I didn't think it appropriate to wear the robes, considering." He offers a smile to Wash and Dagon. "Lord Admiral, Duke Dagon." He lifts his glass in salute, then offers a bow to Lydia and Desiree.

"I'm not at the part yet where my brother moons the entire block," Ian tells Hadrian. This story, begun a little while ago, is an explanation for why he nixed 'the signal' during their elaborate 'escape Hadrian's guards' operation being a hoot. Then he's being shoved forward, and has to take a moment to steady himself. "The Legate's been here since the Queensrest," he reminds Hadrian while he does so. "He's why they waited so long to throw us out." He knows what Hadrian's trying to do, re: shoving him in the general direction of beautiful women. Hadrian's been trying to do it all night. Ian has gotten to the point where he's making a perverse game of "not noticing". "Wash! Where have you been?"

Katarina arrives fashionably late on the scene, perhaps having pulled herself from some manual labor venture another, as she's clothed in her usual seafaring attire; she washed and tidied up somewhere along the way, at least. Hers is a shy intrusion, hovering about on the fringes of the gathering while golden eyes take in the myriad faces of acquaintances gathered in the main hall. She perches herself against the side of a table laden with refreshment, pulling her fingers free of her gloves before stuffing them away into a pouch upon her hip.

Desiree looks around at all the men and women with a smile. "I'm Lady Desiree Wyrmguard. It's a pleasure to meet all of you." She looks at the glass of wine and orders her own drink. "I can't say I'm not already having a good time."

Lucita's glance over those assembled show her, stranger, stranger, stranger, stranger, and two more strangers, a bunch of exuberant musicians and finally someone familiar, other than the server who has waited on her a few times. To Hadrian and Ian she offers a smile and greeting. "You look as though having fun this evening."

Lydia leaves the bar by scooting off her stool and droping to the floor with the most dainty of thuds. From the bar, six glasses of whisky are claimed, held three to each hand and pinched together at the rims. It is of Aviaron appellation, so to speak, and thus perfectly fit to drink with friends. "I'll deliver these, make sure everyone gets one," she tells the bartender. As she approaches she swings her hips, feeling plesantly intoxicated, making sure both Hadrian and Ian get a glass, as well as anyone else who wants one as long as she still has one for herself. She hands one of the glasses to Wash, checking the sailor out. "Call me Lydia" she explains in introduction, sluring her name "Li-dya" her accent thicker than she usually allows thanks to the liquor.

"There were a contingent of Kennex sailors on that block that night. They still talk about the night of the Kennex moon, like they are proud of having seen Porter's backside." Wash adds to Ian's story, as if he had been there, he wasn't but he has heard it before. "Excuse me. I need to see a woman about a boat." He takes his drink from the bar and sets off in Katarina's direction. "Ho there Valardin. Do I smell different to you? Or has my nose stopped working entirely since midnight last night?"

Orazio gestures to Katarina. "Princess Katarina," he calls, grinning. "This is a night on which we are greeting and being introduced to Lord Ian. You can't do that from back there. Come here," he beckons. "And if you've already met him, just do so again. No reason not to be friendly!"

"How do I? From the bottom of a bottle at the moment, dearest of all Legates," Hadrian answers with sudden clarity and seriousness. Then he's moving on, head bobbing about as he swishes and sways through the bodies of people, clearly working to keep on the move with the musicians playing hurriedly to keep up. As he moves by Wash and Dagon, Hadrian points a finger in their direction to acknowledge them, "Sir Ham! And...", he takes note of the name and then with a quick up-and-down glance of Dagon replies, "...Duke...Dagon...", it would seem that he's failed to come up with an adequate nickname for the Duke of Tyde. For now. Then onward Hadrian goes as he calls out loud and clearly, his bottle of wine now all to himself with Ian having escaped from beneath his shoulder-and-neck-hugging arm, "I'm paying for the drinks tonight! Enjoy yourselves, be merry, make love, or whatever else you may please!" Hadrian continues on before he passes by Lydia and, after he gets a few paces beyond her, Hadrian begins to step backward until he's lingering in her vicinity, "Why hello there...haaaave you met Ian?"

Dagon watches the Kennex Admiral with amusement in his gaze as he chases after the woman with the drink. He does make certain to bow his head with a display of respect towards Katarina along with his rich and resonate voice grace with air trying to comptete with the music. "Princess, always a pleasure."

A woman with white eyes makes her way into the Hart and stops, pausing as she sees the large crowd gathered that evening. Ian, she knows Ian... Sorta... She walks over to the man and looks him over. "Oy, what in the fuck is happenin' here tonight? Lots o' people gathered up tonight."

Magg, the big and friendly barkeep, continues to clean out a mug though a nod is sent toward Hadrian at his declaration. Meanwhile, Lizette and Anna, two barmaids of the Golden Hart begin to circulate among the sudden influx of patrons along with those who had already been present, working to ensure that the guests are properly served and pleased.

Lydia is all grins, both for Hadrian and Ian. "I have. We keep bumping into each other it seems." She looks up at the two much taller men, her cute factor dialed up to epic levels tonight.

    "Your... smell?" Katarina echoes after Wash uncertainly, his words begetting a rather bemused cant of the head. "No, I can't say that I have," she allows in soft-spoken response, tilting her head a shade to the left to lend a wide-eyed response toward Orazio as she's called upon. Her face flushes, golden eyes dancing from the Legate to Wash, looking back at the latter while quietly transplanting herself beside the former. "You'll re-meet your cousin with me, yes?"

Ian bows his thanks to Lydia when she presents him with more alcohol. Well -- 'bows'. He's not going to risk actually bowing, especially not right now, but he does nod deeply over his cane. It -feels- like a bow, even if it isn't one. "But tonight, you're staying, and I'm staying." Hey, he has whisky now. He sips at it. Sip. He's not moving around nearly as much; moving's not easy for him even when sober. Now he starts in the direction of the bar, though.


     Dagon cannot help the opportunity and while grabbing a drink for himself, has his gaze in the direction of the Kennex admiral and the Princess and in a wry tone full of himor states. "He smells of bacon grease, a welcome change I am told."

"Good. It's just me. I can't stop /smelling/ bacon... all the time. Bacon." Wash admits. "I may have made a grievous error. But as long as you're not afflicted, then allow me to bring you to the illustrious Ian. How this evening became about him, I don't understand, but if the Marquis is going to make such a big deal about introductions, I can't wait to tell him when is Ian's birthday." He walks with Katarina back to the social fray.

Lydia is a little bolder tonight, less concerned with offending someone by offering to help. She reaches for Ian's arm more than happy to help him to the barstool right next to the one she vacated. At the least the diminutive redhead will look adorable on his arm and at best she'll save the both of them a nasty tumble.

Ian has joined the a handsome wooden bar with steel footrest and swivel barstools.

Clara has joined the a handsome wooden bar with steel footrest and swivel barstools.

Orazio has joined the a handsome wooden bar with steel footrest and swivel barstools.

Lydia has joined the a handsome wooden bar with steel footrest and swivel barstools.

Katarina has joined the a handsome wooden bar with steel footrest and swivel barstools.

Clara looks between Ian and Wash at their odd conversation. "Someone is gonna have ta explain this to me. I don't know why he'd smell like bacon..." She orders a drink for herself, a Crovane whiskey, and drinks it straight from the bottle. "But Ian, ya must tell me what is this gatherin' all about tonight?"

Wash has joined the a handsome wooden bar with steel footrest and swivel barstools.

From the doors a few individuals come strolling in. Dressed in elegant silk trousers and sashes, the otherwise barechested men stroll it with an assortment of knives adorning their wide leather belts. Nonchalantly they move into the Golden Hart and begin to break apart from the huddled group that they traveled in. Soon enough the knives come out as they stand equal distances from one another, with a couple of the men acting as minders, in order to prevent stray pedestrians from walking between the men with the knives. Then. Then they start tossing the knives at one another, juggling them between one another. The band picks up and begins to play a fast and hard song, putting music to the vibrant and seemingly dangerous of the knife jugglers.

Desiree has joined the a handsome wooden bar with steel footrest and swivel barstools.

Ian warns Lydia before proceeding in that direction: "If I fall, I'm taking you down with me." Very solemn, this relaying of information. "This is experience talking, here." He doesn't fall, though. He's been keeping himself expertly JUST shy of too intoxicated to walk all evening. "You'd have to ask the Marquis about that," he tells Clara. "And I don't think you're going to get a coherent answer." A pause. He takes note of the knife jugglers. "Certainly not one that explains knife jugglers."

Wash applauds the jugglers, setting down his glass long enough to show appreciation for the entertainers.

Desiree finds an empty seat at the bar and joins the others. She enjoys her drink and the knife jugglers. "They're so good."

Lucita blinks as her greeting is not noticed, but with the size of the crowd and the music, the clink and clatter from the bar area, only to be expected. Now pleasantly warm from standing near the fireplace, she spots a vacant barstool near the end of the bar, a perfect location for people-watching. "Is that seat being held for anyone?"

"Lady Clara," Orazio says, solemnly, "Lord Wash is an innovator in the area of the defensive arts. You need to understand the majesty and grandeur of his vision." He makes a grand and melodramatic gesture at Wash. "It was quite impressive." But he doesn't elaborate on the details. The entertainers are blinked at. "Ah, yes. Sharp, flying knives. Precisely what this tribute to drunkenness needs to be /extra/ exciting." Which doesn't stop him from applauding, one hand against this forearm.

At Dagon's words aside on the Kennex admiral's rather strange smell, Katarina turns her head to cast a well-humored glance between the Duke of Tyde and Wash. "Do I wish to know why you've come to smell like bacon grease?" she wonders, pressing herself into a subtle lean agaisnt the bar's edge, of which requires a loftful uptilt of folded arms given her casual tactical-sized stature. It's by Orazio she hovers, fingers toying with the strings of her little rum skin as she waits with bated breath for the opportunity to speak with the hosts of the evening placidly. Instead, it's the Legate who is lifted an offer to try the Eurusi rum she's known to carry on her. "Would you like to try some, Father...?"

Lydia almost falls into Ian as "ooo shiny" catches her eye and she turns tipsy on one heel while still attached to Ian's arm. Thankfully already having reached their stools (dead center in the most conspicuous spot along the entire length of the bar) she shouldn't quite send anyone tumbling. Her clear high voice squeals, "Jugglers!" as she watches the knives go flying with wide eyes and tugs on Ian's arm to make sure he can't miss them.

Normally he cannot possibly subtly enter a room, but theres so much damned noise and revelry in here. This allows the armed and armored Marshal of Ostria to gain entrance easier without stalking about, or running someone over. Indeed he can barely get a step into the place for the momentum to do so. Valerio does blink his one eye several times as there is a virtual blender being juggled through the air. Wordlessly, he tries to make his way to the bartender.

"It is part and parcel with the Marquis' nickname for me. Which... is unfortunate. You forgot his family name. It's Sir Ham Saulot!" He calls down the bar to Hadrian. "A character I invented for the Marquis' entertainment last evening. Enjoyable, but the costume was a perpetuation of the naming conventions."

Hadrian checked charm + performance at difficulty 20, rolling 27 higher.

Orazio raises his wine glass to Katarina. "I have a great deal of lovely wine. Never cared too much for rum, I fear, my lady. But," he reaches out, and if he allows him to take her hand, he'll raise it so that he can kiss the tips of her fingers, "I thank you for the offer, truly." Then he looks up and grins over at Wash. "Innovation! Both sturdy and edible! Possibly not a good idea in the summer, however."

Hadrian moves away from Lydia now that she's commandeered the Lord of the Hour, Ian Kennex. So Hadrian continues on through the growing crowds until he finds Lucita. He's only got the one good arm, so he calls out Lucita with an outreached had, "Dance with me? Let's go!" And then Hadrian, clearly eager to get down to some dancing, moves off with Lucita and begins to dance. At one point he even moves toward the jugglers, continuing to dance along to the music. Smartly though, the minders standing around the Lycene knife jugglers turn the Marquis of House Mazetti away, which just sends him dancing back toward Lucita, spinning and slipping through the bodies like a feather in the air as he seems to just miss bumping into one patron or another as he enjoys his time alive. Nearly dying has that effect on some for sometime afterward.

Clara nods her head to Ian. "I will just have to go and ask him then." Then she looks to Orazio. "I will give understaindin' my best try Father but I'm more than a lil' confused." Then she goes off to find the Marquis and stops right in front of the man, tiny woman looking up at him with curious and confused eyes, white eyes looking him over. "Lady Clara Crovane, pleasure to meet ya." Its a quick introduction because she wants the answer to her question. "What exactly are ya celebratin' tonight Marquis? I'm more than a bit confused with the talk of bacon 'n all."

Lucita turns at her name being called out and gives a beguiling smile. "I'll be glad to try, I do better playing, or singing, than dancing. Will try not to stamp your foot!" She sets her hand into Hadrians, eyes sparkling as she tries to follow his steps.

Lucita checked charm + performance at difficulty 20, rolling 13 higher.

"His costume was made of ham," Ian clarifies to Katarina. He's keeping half an eye on Lucita and Hadrian, especially when Hadrian dances/drags her closer to the knife jugglers. "... Good ham."

    Again, Katarina's face warms considerably at Orazio's gesture. Her lips upturn into their infectious little dimpled smle, looking upon his wine glass with interest. "What sort of vintage is that, Father?" Ian's clarification immediately pulls her attention back on Ian, a rough exhale of silent laughter lost before she quells the sound low within her throat. "... Ham? Really? I take it this was at another party I missed?" Her head turns to lend Wash an exasperated grin, fingers uncurling from her drink to be flicked at him in half-hearted scolding. ".. It was the good ham, Admiral! The GOOD ham..."

Desiree has left the a handsome wooden bar with steel footrest and swivel barstools.

Hadrian's dancing comes to an abrupt halt when a white-eyed woman appears to stand before himself. He teeters this way and that for a moment until he leans forward. Forward more. A little more. Only after the Marquis of House Mazetti has lowered himself from his couple inches over six feet tall so that he's on the level of the Lady Clara, his mirthful expression only becomes more so as the broad grin slips across his features and he asks, rather cheerfully, "Have you ever almost died? I mean looked death in the face, been at it's mercy, and somehow survived? Afterward you feel the need to live. To truly capture every moment that you can, so that you can enjoy the good fortune that allowed you to live...", Hadrian explains at length, but then he abruptly gestures toward Ian, "...but this evening is for Lord Ian. Because Lord Ian is my best friend and I try to show my friends how deeply that I appreciate and respect them. This is just one way of doing so," he slurs out his answer to Clara. And then? Then Hadrian Mazetti's on the move again as he dances off and away with another spin of crimson silk and his half-cloak swirls out behind him as he calls out to the knife jugglers, "Me! Throw one to me!"

The knife jugglers shake their head 'no'. Adamantly.

Wash says, "It was Donkey Knights. I wouldn't insult the Marquis by using bad ham." Wash explains to Clara, pointing to his nose. "Tonight is Ian. We are celebrating his existence! As is right and just!" Wash says, lifting his glass in a toast. "To Ian Kennex friend of Hadrian Mazetti! One of them drinks because he cannot always stand too well, and the other cannot always stand because he drinks too well.""

Desiree finishes her drink and stands. "It's been fun, but there'es somewhere else I need to be." She looks toward everyone and Ian. "Have a good birthday!"

2 House Wyrmguard Guards leaves, following Desiree.

"Don't forget the bacon," Orazio says to Ian. "The bacon was magnificent. And magnificently used. Lord Wash, Sir Ham, he nearly took down a dragon. A wee angry dragon, who I think was very drunk." He looks down at his glass, and shrugs. "I have no idea, Your Highness. It's quite tasty. And isn't that what really matters?"


     Dagon turns his gaze from the Marquis to the knife jugglers and lets out a small sigh of relief at least rationality instead of wine soaked judgment prevailed in such exchange. Dagon asks for his cup to be refilled and when it is he raises his cup in recognition to the man of this gathering. "Happy natality to you, Lord Ian."

"Clara looks over Hadrian for a second and nods her head like this is all the explaination he needs but though the question he asks seems to be rhetorhical she answers the bit about death. "Aye, I was dead for a while at birth. Its why the white eyes." She explains before going her own way and looking to Wash. "Bad ham... Bacon, Ham... and ya smell like it. What was you doin' with all this meet Lord Washburn?" She looks to Ian then. "Good to be celebrating just to celebrate you and life. I'm happy you have a night of yer own. You have an interestin' best friend, by the way..." She reaches up one of her ivory hands and drags it through her long curly hair. When Dagon addresses Ian, Clara takes the opportunity to offer the man a nod of her head. "Evenin'. Don' think I've met ya yet. I'm Lady Clara Crovane, sister of Duke Asger Crovane."

Ian notes that Desiree is on her way out just in time to salute her with his drink. He's made real progress on it. Tonight is not a 'sip from the same glass for hours' night. He finishes off the drink. "It's not actually my birthday," he tells Dagon with a quick, wry smile. "I doubt Wash has any idea when that is. I'd introduce myself, but I feel like it's unnecessary."

Lydia's face is full of surprise as she hears Ian teling Dagon and turns her attention back to Ian, "It's your birthday?!" For just a moment she looks like that person, the one who insists spankings be handed out on birthdays or something...

Orazio leans towards Ian. "I believe you have lost this battle. Happy birthday." And then, to make this even more confusing, he pulls a large tankard, carved with a sea serpent, and offers it over.

"Happy birthday, Ian!" Hadrian calls out from afar at the ruckus of birthdays. It seems that even if it weren't Ian's birthday? Well, it is now, in Hadrian's world.

Lucita was hesitant at first, Hadrian's lead guided her to a point she avoided falling over her own feet, spinning the wrong way to isolate her from the dance partner or bumping into one of the servers and produce a shower of drinks on someone. "You are quite adept at dancing." She steps aside as he speaks with others. "Just be happy celebrating an early birthday, or a late one, or an extra one!"

"Happy birthday, Lord Ian," Katarina sweetly chimes toward Ian, some amusement in her golden eyes. "I can't help but believe you've been waiting to do this for a while now," she quips in quiet aside to Wash, turning to face the ham-scented admiral fully.

Wash says, "It's the... shit. It's the... damn. I'll ask Porter. Just because I can't remember the day doesn't mean I never knew it!" Wash shouts down the bar. He asks Katarina. He probably will never admit he's the one that first mentioned birthdays tonight. "Princess Katarina, this is my newest acquaintance in the Great House of Thrax. Duke Tyde." He looks from one to the other. "Did I already introduce you Dagon?" He introduces his cup to his lips, intent on catching up with Ian in the anti-sobriety department. Catching up with Hadrian seems impossible."


     "Ah well I can see where the confusion comes from. My fault I think for trusting a man who perhaps needs aid in whtat day of the week tis is." Dagan is certain to flash a smaile in Wash's direction in an effort to convey his words were a jest and not malicious in nature. It is then his rich blue gaze is turned towards Clara and a inclination of his head towards her is soon followed by words. "Indeed we have not. Good eve to you Lady Clara. I am Dagon Tyde, Consort to her grace, Duchess Margot Tyde. Wellmet to you."

Ian's glass is refilled pretty much the moment he sets it on the bar. He gives Magg, the bartender, a look, quirking an eyebrow. Magg looks back, the picture of innocence who's not going out of his way to get Ian more drunk than he actually is. Ian shrugs and takes a sip. And then, suddenly, it's his birthday. He blinks when a tankard is put into his hands, then looks up at Orazio and gives him a quirk of a smile; there's surprise in his intense blue eyes. "...Thank you." The unexpected gift has jostled him out of the rhythm of the evening, if only temporarily.

Hadrian's hand reaches out for Lucita, as though he were struggling to keep his dance partner within arm's reach, but some force were pulling him away. That force was indeed Lord Ian Kennex. Hadrian begins to move in the direction of the Lord of the Hour. But another force halts Hadrian in his tracks. Valerio arrives and Hadrian's left frozen. Swiftly his eyes begin to slash about, searching for some means of disguise or escape. But he was the Marquis, so Hadrian stands his ground. In fact, he takes ground. The Marquis of House Mazetti swiftly, albeit wobbling, makes his way toward Valerio before Hadrian's chin inclines in greeting, "Marshal. Is there something to report or are you just out enjoying an evening of revelry and...", it seems that there was a barb of a joke on the tip of his tongue, but it goes unspoken.

"Again. Just because I cannot remember what day of the week it is today. Does not mean that I never knew." Wash clings to that as a liferaft in a stormy sea. "Waiting to do what? Get drunk? Oh yes. Yes yes. All the arrangements are made. I don't have to be sober now unless I want to. And why would I want that?"

"You," Orazio says, with the peculiar solemnity of someone who is more drunk than he wishes to appear, "have been a good friend. Also, I don't know your actual birthday, so this is as good a time as any." He reaches out to briefly pat Ian on the shoulder. "Eat, drink, and make merry, yes?" Then he finishes off his glass of wine, and waves his goblet around until one of the friendly waitstaff refills it for him.

"Ah, a Duke." Clara then offers a curtsy like she is just remembering manners or something. She takes a sip of her whiskey and then a messenger comes over to her. "Well, looks like I am being called elsewhere. It was nice to meetcha while I was able." She tilts her head to Dagon then and heads out of the Hart.

Ian doesn't actually hug Orazio, because heaven forbid someone in Thrax show THAT much affection for another person. But he does reach out and briefly grip the Legate's upper arm. That's when Hadrian's change in demeanor (because Ian is still keeping half an eye on him, for some reason) catches Ian's attention. "Shit. Looks like they found us." He doesn't sound all that upset, though. Amused, if anything.

Nearly to the bar before he was noticed. His luck holds firm, its the Nephew-In-Law. Valerio crosses his arms and tilts his head to the left so his eye can give the man a good long look once up and down. "A report? My My My. Continuing your hangover are we?" Valerio leaves unspoken to whom he actually reports to. Looking his usual self. Neutral, Valerio continues on. "I may be here on my own to relax. I may be keeping an eye on you. If I am, the next question is, is it on the behalf of your wife? Or for my own personal reasons? You will probably never know!"

Clara has left the a handsome wooden bar with steel footrest and swivel barstools.

"It is a lovely tankard, isn't it?" Katarina pays compliments to Ian's newly gifted tankard, admiring the serpent carving along its side before lifting her gaze to Orazio. "You always seem to have a knack of finding the most interesting of gifts, Father. -- And yes, it should be simply enjoyed." she tacks on a soft remark in agreement about the wine, turning to lean her back against the barside to look upon the party raging with interest.

Orazio grins at the brief grip, and then the curse. His head turns, and he raises his (now brimming) glass of wine. "Lord General! Come, come. You can help me keep an eye on these youngsters, keep them from ending up nude on the roof and startling the Valardin. Wine? Rum? Whiskey? Wine?"

"Hey... hey, hey, hey... it is in *our* arrangement that so long as I'm doing my business outside of the manor, then I can do whatever I please. Soooooo," Hadrian slurs back at Valerio. Even his head has began to rock from one side to the other before he distracts himself with a pull from his bottle of wine. It's pulled away once again before Hadrian swallows and continues, bleary-eyed back as Valerio and his crossed arms while the Marquis converses with the Marshal of Ostria and one of the secretive Guardians of the Walled City, "*And* if you are watching me for her? Then you can tell her this... I don't like your face." Hadrian spins away, his half-cloak swirling out behind him as he briskly begins to walk-shuffle-wobble away back toward his new best friend, Ian.


     Dagon watches as Clara leaves, a look of thoughtfulness in his eyes before he turns his attention back to the man who got him involved in the first place and the Princess Katarina. His smile is in place once more as he speaks. "We are acquainted with one another, but I do thank you Admiral for the consideration." His rich blue gaze returns to Katarina. "Again always a pleasure to be in your company, Highness."

"Great. She's a captain you know. Sailing captain." Wash explains. "She still has a ship though. The Unsullied, unlike me."

Hadrian is overheard praising Ian for: Happy birthday, Lord Ian Kennex!

Lucita moves closer to the bar and murmurs. "Let me see if I remember the names correctly, Lord ...er.. Dagon, Princess Katarina, er...Lord Walsh? Lord Watch? The band...and noise, hard to hear some names. And Legate Orazio. er...Lady Li Diia. No offense if I got any wrong, just did not hear them clearly.

Ian turns the tankard over in his hands, now that Katarina has called his attention back to it. "There -is- a garden on the roof," he muses. When Hadrian returns to his side, he adds: "You could always have Webb keep his glass full. If you get him drunk enough, he'll probably tell you why he's here." Is he making ANY attempt to conceal this clever plan by whispering it or something? Nope.

Sits on the stool next to Ian, taking in all the myriad of interactions. Maggs refills her whisky. She grins as she watches the color and excitiment all about.

"I'd slap him. However he's too drunk to feel it for it to be saisfactory enough." Valerio rolls his eyes and heads for Orazio, someone else of suitable age and decorum. At least for now, the night is young. "Legate, a pleasures eeing you here, even if it is a tad of a surprise."

Orazio bows, very solemnly, from his seat. Usually he stands for that, but not this time. "And a pleasure seeing you, as well. Even a man of the cloth enjoys some time with good friends and a great quantity of booze." A thoughtful pause. "I could really do without the band and the flying knives, if we're honest."

"Yessss," Hadrian hisses back at Ian's suggestion before he calls out to Valerio, "Drinks are on me tonight, darling Marshal! Drink your fill!" the Marquis of Valerio's very same House calls out. Then Hadrian's attention drifts back to Ian and Wash and Dagon and all the rest gathered together at the bar. He continues to stand however as his head dips about in time with the beat and rhythm of the music. The knife jugglers continue to work, beginning to walk and move in hypnotic patterns in order to add more danger and excitement to their once-stationary act.

Wash is overheard praising Ian for: Happy Birthday, young Lord Kennex!

Katarina follows Orazio's glance briefly toward Valerio, a small smile made readied for the Lord General should she catch his eye. The Valardin turns, eyeing the Legate as nudity and startling Valardins are mentioned. "You would be surprised," she sing-songs, trailing off to easily engage Dagon as she's addressed. "Likewise, my lord. It's always good to relish good company when we have the time." A quiet settles over her anew, inching away from Orazio when he becomes surrounded by too many people, hovering at the end of the bar.


     Dagon sips at his drink as he regards the gathering, his inquisitive eyes sweeping over each person, and so she was not to feel left out, give Lucita a nod in greeting as well. He leans back upon the well tended and old bar with as he turns back to Katarina. "Indeed good company is in rare sorts these days and should be treasured when found."

If Ian can catch Valerio's eye, he gives the other man a quick, sharp smile. The smile is almost mischevious, an acknowledgement that yes, Marshal, I unleashed this upon you, and I absolutely knew what I was doing. Because he's looking Valerio-ward, he catches what Katarina says to Orazio, and then those intense eyes, still clear and shockingly observant after all of this drinking, shift to the Legate. He raises his eyebrows once before returning his attention to his own drink. "Princess Valencia's not going to be very happy if someone gets impaled," he observes, not with any real purpose.

Wash cares for his drink first and foremost, which means not letting anyone jostle him in his cups. He too moves down making room for Katarina's withdrawal but staying at her elbow.

Orazio checked perception at difficulty 15, rolling 2 higher.

"I shiver to think of the implications," Orazio claims to Katarina. Then he frowns, his head jerking to look at Ian. His eyes narrow. "You keep /looking/ at me. Ever since that ridiculous donkey thing. What is that look, hmm? These are clean clothes. I've bathed. I'm not currently condemning anyone /or/ preaching!"

After returning a deep bow to Orazio, Valerio slides into a seat at the bar as near the man as he can. For Hardian, he calls out. "Drinks are invariably almost always upon you, My Lord. In one form or another." His good eye does indeed nearly miss Ian and his smile. Ahhh. There is a sharp nod towards the easing away Katarina. Valerio has not surrounded Orazio yet, indeed a siege has not even begun. "As for you, Legate. What would be your booze of choice? I'm with you though, only a matter of time before a drunk blunders into juggled knifes."

Katarina seems surprised that Wash would linger at her elbow, a hint of color spreading over the young Eurusi's cheeks awkwardly. "Oh, hello to you again," she quips, humor soft, raising her glass in mild toast toward Dagon and Valerio respectively before her attention resettles on the Kennex admiral. "I have a secret to ridding the invasive smell of bacon grease, or ham, if you'd like to know it."

"You are lucky," Ian tells Orazio with exaggerated seriousness, "that I'm not drunk enough to answer your question." He takes a drink from his glass, sets it down, looks at it, then shrugs and follows that up with a second swallow of whisky.


     A rich and resounding chuckle comes from Dagon's chest at the Marshall's comment and another sip of his drink. After the laugh dies down a bit, there is a mirthful twinkle in his eye as he speaks. "Drunk wandering into knives might be the end goal. I know in the Mourning Isles it is not called a successful gathering unless blood is shed three times."

"Please. If I'm to be an exile, let it be for reasons other than my personal odor." Wash says with humor. It isn't strange for him to associate first and foremost with other sailors at large events, when possible, captains.

"Maybe thats what he actually wants, My Lord." Valerio offers unto Orazio. "I'd wager he wishes you to preach, to him alone, just now. Followed by a good condemning." Sage nod. "I guarantee it is what he is after. Clearly he is unable to speak it."

"Barkeep," Orazio waves his free hand. "A glass of wine for the Lord General, if you please, and put something desperately alcoholic in Lord Ian's new mug. I don't think it matters what kind of booze it is, really." He flashes a grin at Ian, one that takes a few years off of his face, before turning back to Valerio. "Oh, no. There has been a lot of condemning, of late, and I am enjoying an evening without it." His smile droops. "It may not last, but joy should be taken where it can be found."

    Fortunately for Wash he is evenly matched, a young admiral to an even younger admiral. "Lemon juice," she reveals, perhaps, anticlimatically. "Boiled water, lemon juice, and.."

Lucita looks along the bar, her smile fading slightly as her effort to meet others, who are strangers to her, seems to have become lost in the band and crowd noises for the most part. The smile returns, directed toward Dagon in relief as someone responds to her effort to sort out names of all the people. Politely she chooses to just listen rather than interrupting the various conversations and takes a sip of her wine. Time enough to meet others later.

Lydia has become rather quiet herself. Looking down half the length of the bar, she offers Lucita a silent smile.

Hadrian has joined the a handsome wooden bar with steel footrest and swivel barstools.

Webb is all too happy to follow Orazio's orders, with regards to the tankard and Maelstrom rum. Ian watches most of the bottle go into his cup and finishes off his whisky, then sets the glass solidly on the bar. Challange accepted. "Ask me again, when I'm done with this." He tells Orazio, before he takes a drink.

Valerio has joined the a handsome wooden bar with steel footrest and swivel barstools.

Lucita has joined the a handsome wooden bar with steel footrest and swivel barstools.


     Dagon turns towards Webb when he breaks out the only real drink there is to be had, the Maelstrom rum. With drink in hand he makes a motion down towards Lyida. "Be certain yon Lady has a cup full of the quality liqueur good master. I would not see her so deprived nor neglected from such a lovely gathering."

"Ah, thank you." Valerio sips at the wine before words catch up with him. "A lot of condemning as of late? More demon business?" His left eyebrow above the eyepatch arches in query. "Interesting times." He throws up a wave towards Wash, and a more obvious one for Lucita. "Lady Lucita Igniseri, I hope you're going to have a wonderful evening!" He was young once! He appearently remembers what its like to go out into such places as these.

Lydia smiles as Magg pours her something new. And when she indicates who ordered it up, Lyria gives Dagon a greatful nod. "Thank you."

"And now I'm curious," Orazio says to Ian, and he even winks before turning his attention to the others. Just a shake of his head to Valerio - the Legate is not /that/ drunk, yet, for all he's working his way through his drink. "Lady Lucita...Igniseri, did you say?" He peers curiously at her, and then at Lydia. "Ah, I have been rude. My deepest apologies, ladies. How could I make it up to you?"

Wash disappears upstairs with a bottle of whiskey already singing the lost Song of Mourning. Badly.

Ian has fallen briefly silent (because his player has dinner and is eating it), re-devoting himself to the alcohol in front of him. Something does make him grin to himself, though.

Lydia nods to Orazo, indicating the glass that just got refilled, "I'm well taken care of, thank you. There is nothing to apologize for!" She smiles.

Lucita says, "Lord Valerio Mazetti! " She turns her hand and gestures at all the various activities in the room, from the lively band to the busy bar. "One can not help but enjoy just soaking u the images and potential for sharing a drink, listening to what is of interest to others, and trying to learn a bit more about the city." She glances toward the Legate and smiles. "That is correct, have not been in the city to very long, but settling into my new home. No apology needed. It is a busy time with lots happening, and drinks to be had."

Hadrian finally finds his place among the bar stools, mainly due to the fact that the jugglers wouldn't toss him a knife so that he could participate in the act. At least he hired professionals, it would seem. Hadrian's attention returns ahead to regard a glass that's place before himself. He hiccups quietly before he nods his thanks toward Magg, the barkeep. The tumbler of rum is taken up in hand as Hadrian sweeps up to his feet. Fast and fluid, it seems as though that simple gesture was as practiced as the leader's varied expressions. A bright grin prospers across his sharp features as he places his glass down. The problem of having only a lone uninjured hand was indeed a nuisance. Hadrian sweeps back his cold black hair, drawing his through splayed fingers through it in order to manipulate it away from his forehead before he reaches down to collect his tumble again. The glass is raised high and Hadrian speaks up loudly over the din of merry musical talents, "A toast!"

Hadrian then shifts slightly in order to keep his glass raised in the direction of Ian, "Lord Ian Kennex, you've been an excellent sport, we both know we've hardly known one another to declare one another best friends... but you've been a gentleman about it all, so you have my appreciation and my respect. It is, in essence for many, difficult for them to simply go with the flow of the stream and let it guide them. You've done so expertly and with negligible complaint. So maybe you're worth making a best friend out of after all! Let's hope that this is just a taste of the friendship we can foster between ourselves for the future! I salute you, Lord Ian Kennex! And... happy birthday!" Hadrian then pauses for a moment before he offers up another toast, "And to me, for being so damnably amazing and charming! Cheers!" He concludes the toast with a laugh before he drinks from his tumbler of Maelstrom rum.

Orazio clasps his free hand over his chest. "No need for apology? I disagree. But if you are kind enough to forgive the debt, ladies, then I shall simply find myself in awe over your kindness, which is even greater than your already magnificent beauties." It's very dramatic, with big gestures.

"Indeed I did say." Valerio starts with a slow chuckle. His head inclines to Lydia, and gestures towards Lucita. "Indeed, My Lady. I often simply get a little pleasant on wine so I can give advice to the truly drunk, observe their failues, and obnoxiously ask them what did they learn, or give an I told you so, at a later time. It amuses me. Lady Igniseri, this is Legate Orazio. A pleasant man dispite his appearance and occupation. The other lady I am... unintroduced to, I believe." He refers to Lydia. Then there is Hadrian calling for a toast. "Oh what fresh hell will this be?" Is muttered under Valerios breath. "To Lord Ian Kennex!!" Nope. No NIL Toasting for now.


     Dagon shifts his attention back to the Marquis, raising his cup in said toast and perhaps for the first time (or mayhap the second time, fourth? Who is really to count) drains his drink, closing his eyes as the sweet taste of home graces his tongue. He opens his eyes and adds to the noise and the crowd his own hearty "Here here" with conclusion of the toast.

Ian cheerfully countertoasts: "To Marquis Hadrian Mazetti, evader of death and thrower of incredible parties. I've had to go with flows a lot more unpleasant than this one." He drinks.

Lydia is overheard praising Hadrian for: Hadrian throws one hell of a party!

Hadrian is overheard praising Lydia for: I like her face!

Valerio is overheard praising Ian for: For being totally cooler than Hadrian!

Orazio catches up with the rest of the conversation, belatedly. He sits back, and calls out, "Here, here! To Lord Ian, and Marquis Hadrian! May they live long and drink much."

Lydia beams at Hadrian!

Katarina has left the a handsome wooden bar with steel footrest and swivel barstools.

Hadrian begins to seat himself again following the toast, and Ian's countertoast, which draws a laugh out of Hadrian. Soon enough he's settled back down and leaning back on his stool in order to send a look toward Lydia. Then to Valencia. Then to Lydia. Then back to Ian. Frantically his eyes dart all about while he's searching out so many faces. Then his back straightens as though a board and Hadrian calls out to Orazio, "Judgemaster!" The Legate of Concepts is fixed with a green-eyed stare before Hadrian slurs out his question, "I've a charity even planned within the next month or so. I need three judges, I'd like for you to be one of them...because you're good at judging. You can even be overly critical like your natural state of being... so it's really kind of win-win for you. Are you up for it?"

The heating of the wine reduces the alcohol in it, making it a milder beverage so Lucita's motions are steady, her voice without slurs or evidence of over-indulging. "I'm just using wine also because I did not want to wake up with a headache and no memory of meeting all these fine people to whom am being introduced." She nods toward Orazio so he is included in her attention and words spoken. There is a pause to listen to the toasts. She lifts her mug of mulled wine to sip as she shares in the toasting.

Orazio sighs. "Judgemaster? Truly?" He waggles his glass at Hadrian. "What are you asking me to judge? Flowers? Poetry?" He looks down at his glass. "Wine? Wine would be most pleasant to judge." But now his shoulders droop a little, his head dropping. Sadness seeps in, with that dangerously quick temper change of the inebriated. "Overly critical? It is not my intention."

Lucita is overheard praising Hadrian for: Free drinks, merry music, and wonderful party.

Lucita is overheard praising Ian for: Happy Unbirthday, or late birthday, or early birthday, or extra birthday. Whatever it is, happy day!

Eventually giving in, even Valerio raises a cup towards Hadrian. He does try to do so in a fashion where he won't notice though. Then theres Hadrian calling Orazio out as Judgemaster, which takes a year off Valerios life. "He's on a rip, next the gods will be 'the big daddies in the sky' or some such." At the overly critical comment hitting the mark. "You know I'll just stand here and do nothing if you slap him, yes?"


     Dagon sets down his cup and he stands. Is there there a bit of a wobble to his tall form as he does, or is it a trick of light and shadows. Once more he inclines his head to the general gathering. "My thanks for the passing of a evening in good company with good drink. I wish all of you well for the rest of this evening and may it be as pleasant and bountiful as the start." Dagon strides towards the exit, and his steps are sure and true, with the perahps bit of oddity he steps with ball of foot pronating towards the heel, rather than the typical heel to toes of many. He glides through the formed crowd and exits, by himself, another uncomon thing for a man of his rank and position.

Hadrian audibly scoffs back at Orazio before he shoots back with a slur to his words, "Oh shut it, you know I think you're the best thing since birth control that never fails! It's your *job* to be judgmental...mostly. And you should love what you do!" Hadrian laughs following his shots fired back at Orazio. He nods however before he shifts around to send a glance toward Ian, then back to Orazio as Hadrian seems sobered by the more serious talk, "We'll talk about that later. You should come be my guest at the manor and we'll talk about it in depth...charitable work and all that, you know. Plus I need to find the winner for..." Hadrian begins to laugh. No, not laugh. Cackle. He cackles long. He cackles hard. He rises up from his barstool with his tumbler of rum and begins to walk away, laughing following after him. As Dagon makes his departure, Hadrian calls after him, "Thanks for showing up, Duke Dagsworth!"

Orazio looks up, blinks, and laughs at Valerio. "I like you," he says. And manages not to go into a drunken tear about just how much he LOVES THIS GUY. But it looks like it might take a little effort. "You are a good man." Hadrian gets narrowed eyes, and a HARUMPH. "Charity, charity, fine. But I'm not writing a donkey." Duke Dagon is given a lift of his glass. "Gods go with you, Duke Hadr...wait, Dagon. Duke Dagon. Yes."

Dagon has left the a handsome wooden bar with steel footrest and swivel barstools.

Hadrian pauses nearby Luigi in order to quietly murmur something along to the stocky, bald-headed man. A pat is given to Luigi's shoulder and then onward one of Hadrian's two lingering personal assistants slips off to handle an errand. When Hadrian turns back, it's with a bright smile cast back toward the bar.

Ian is doing that thing he does, fading into the background, watching the people between drinks. Just just that this time, it's between drinks of rum from that tankard, not sips, and the smile that comes and goes across his face is more often genuine than dry or bitter. He may or may not notice Webb surruptitiously re-filling the tankard whenever he makes any progress on the rum therein. If he does, he's pretending not to.

The band's music softens, slowing down as the conversations become more sombre and relaxed. The knife jugglers, for the moment, move off to get a drink themselves. Perhaps drunken knife juggling is coming up next.

Lucita finishes her wine and finally stands. slipping away from the bar and getting her cloak. "Much as am enjoying it here, it is time to return home. Thank you for such the drinks, the entertainment, and a chance to relax in good company."

Lydia has left the a handsome wooden bar with steel footrest and swivel barstools.

"Thank you for making your presence known, Lady Lucita! Travel safely!" Hadrian calls out as he returns to his drinks.

Chuckling in return he puts his good eye on Orazio, almost looking serious for the moment. "Its because you and I hit that certain age, where we remember what it was like to be them. Therefore know how to mess with their minds in the easiest of ways." Valerio nods sharply and watches Hadrian proclaim his man-love for Orazio's abilities. "Duke Dagon, I should have to meet him again another time. Many new faces of late, granted. I'm one of them." "Ah, Lady Lucita. Do enjoy your evening, it is probably for the best you flee now before something completely insane occurs."

The sound of Lucita's melodic laugh follows her out the door.

Lucita has left the a handsome wooden bar with steel footrest and swivel barstools.

"Insane? Of course nothing insane will happen, I'm perfectly in control of... everything," Hadrian answers Valerio. Whether it's sincerity or the booze talking, who knows. The Marquis turns his attention around to Ian, then to Valerio again before he states matter of factly, "In fact, I'm just trying to find something to go to bed with. That isn't Lord Ian.. soooo...", Hadrian's gaze remains fixed squarely on Valerio for a moment before the Marquis and Voice of House Mazetti turns his attention back to his drinks.

Ian wordlessly toasts Lucita as she heads out and takes a long drink from the tankard (which Webb has JUST refilled, again). He's quiet a moment longer, then whatever train of thought that was laboriously rumbling through the increasing haze of his mind pulls into the station. "Legate." He looks to Orazio. "I'm drunk enough, now. Come here."

Orazio waves cheerfully to the departing Lucita. He grins at Valerio. "Oh, I don't think I could say that I ever know what it was like to be Marquis Hadrian. That is a mystery even the gods struggle to unravel," he says, solemnly. He snorts as Hadrian responds. "Smile at people until one of them swoons?" He swivels to face Ian. "Ohhh? A secret?" And the Legate leans in close, swaying despite his best efforts and one hand on the bar."

The gleam in Ian's eyes is downright wicked when he leans over to murmur something to Orazio.

Lydia stares into the middle distances, eyes glazed, as her last drink sits empty on the bar. Maggs claims the glass rather than refilling it this time, and sets out a martini glass with spring water for Lydia.

Orazio's face goes through a startling number of rapid changes. Anticipation, which for a moment flickers with an immodest pride...then confusion, and his nose wrinkles like he's bitten into something /terrible/. He rears back, and scowls at Ian. "Young man, that is just /not/ funny," he declares, primly. And now he looks a little horrified.

A messenger arrives, delivering a message to Ian before departing.

Ian laughs and shakes his head. "No, it's funny." Around this point, a messenger with a small package wanders in, wide-eyed at the scene. He weaves around to find Ian, and gives him the package. Ian's laughter fades to startled confusion. "It -really- isn't my birthday," he tells the messenger solemnly. "But you should have a drink, anyway."

Hadrian moves a few stools down in order to bring himself a bit closer to Lydia. He reaches a short distance ahead of her face and snaps his fingers before he announces, "Snap out of it! Do you need to walk it off, Duchess? The name of the game is longevity. Don't blow it all on one go, this is a marathon, not a sprint." Hadrian advises diplomatically and more. He then finishes the remainder of his rum, which draws a wince, and finally Hadrian announces aloud, calling out down the bar, "I thi...", but then he goes quiet as a messenger arrives to deliver a message to Ian. And a package. At this point, Hadrian begins to laugh and turns his attention back to Lydia, "...so, Duchess Lydia, how're youuuu?"

"My Lord, why not simply now just ask the gods this question. 'What could possibly go wrong?', do such, and then we shall see about control!" Valerio calls back, even with glass raised to Hadrian to make his point. Then there's the quip 'bed' and find something' that makes Valerio pause, and slowly exhale. "She does not beat him enough." Then Ozario's words sink in. "Good Lord, -Be- Hardian? No, please spare me from such a fate. Ah yeah, him and that damn smile. Sometimes I just want to smack it with a blue paintbrush." He ends up looking back and forth between Ian and Orazio and raises his brows slightly.

The messenger neither knows, nor cares whether it's Ian's birthday or not. But he's been offered a free drink, so he nods along and then withdraws to go get it.

"It's not," Orazio insists, with a sniff. "And if I wasn't very, /very/ drunk, I would challenge you to a duel over it. My niece is a /lovely/ girl. A good girl!" And then, as quickly as his indignity arrives, it departs with the arrival of the package. "Happy birthday! May you get many gifts!" And then he starts to laugh, low and rumbling. "Hadrian would look very dignified in blue, really."

Lydia smiles, teetering in her seat, "I have had far, far too much to drink." She's built like a feather, and her tolerance simply must be far far below the average. She seems content to enjoy having people about though, and sip her fautini, and come down slowly.

Ian opens the package, revealing a painting of an underwater scene. Speaking of blue. He turns it this way and that, a little confused by the top being darker than the bottom. "Lady Desiree Wyrmguard is a painter," he finally observes, incisively.

Eventually Master Luigi returns and offers a solemn nod of his head toward Hadrian. Hadrian, in return, offers his assistant a prominent thumbs up in recognition of his noteworthy services. Then Hadrian's attention drifts back to Lydia, he offers a solemn nod of his head, looking as serious as he is able before he reminds her, "I understand, I've been there. I once drank so much and had...other things...in my system that I became a prisoner in my own shirt. Then I fell on the floor. Then I became a prisoner to the floor and my shirt. My counterpart at the time only laughed at me, didn't even bother to help...", Hadrian remarks disdainfully. Then his attention flickers toward Orazio for a moment, then back to Lydia before he offers the Duchess another nod, "...just take it easy, right? Right. Relax and enjoy yourself, that's the purpose of tonight."

Ian takes time studying the painting, then hands it to Webb, his chosen Adult for the night. "You'd better keep this for now. I'm in no state to keep it safe."

Lydia listens to Hadrian, and smiles toward Ian as he reminds her of the purpose of the night. Quietly, she says, "Thank you, Hadrian, for this. It is good to see him smile."

"Yes Happy Birthday, Lord Ian!" Valerio seems legitimate in the well wishes, complete with toasting of his wine glass. He sips some and looks towards Ian. "Erm, I do not dare look at the painting. Paintings apparantly can cause duels." He clears his throat and looks innocent. Very innocent.

"Dignified in blue? Then I'll pick another color to slap his teeth with then, my friend!" Valerio confides unto Orazio, loudly.

Orazio blinks a few time at Valerio, in confusion. Then, a wide smile blossoms on his face. "Ah, yes, portraits of Eleyna. She is a vision that the canvas cannot properly contain, although it is good to try." He sighs, his smile going fuzzy and wistful.

"You'd better not look at it, then. Wash is going to be -really- disappointed if I wind up in a duel before he does," Ian tells Valerio with a flash of a grin. "...And in the spirit of disappointing Wash, you really do need to stop threatening my best friend."

"Hah!" Hadrian calls out from the end of the bar where he sits, in response to Ian's insistence that Valerio step off. He returns to speaking casually with Lydia, though his harlequin eyes spare a glance toward Ian, then back to Lydia before he offers a soft dip of his chin and a quiet remark back to the Duchess Nightgold, "It is good. He's always so serious. There's a time for seriousness... can you believe my aunt said that *I* was too serious a few months ago? There's a time for sincerity, there's a time for...all of this," Hadrian remarks with a faint wave of his uninjured hand, and then he adds, "...there is a moment for everything."

Another snort of amusement, and then Valerio makes a bit of a face. "Ah yes well. I wouldn't know. Though if my Champion wins I'll know. That was one of my terms, if I'm going to be accussed of something, then I may as well get myself one of those somethings." A little shrug and a bit of a wince. "Probably not the best sight, that dinner, My Lord. So much out of proportion so quickly." As for Ian Valerio listens with interest poliely, and feigns covering his good eye from the painting and then just.. pauses in motion. His head swivels to look over Ian. "You want to protect your friend, that's honorable of you. Question. Is he married to -your- niece?" The elder man gives the best one-eyed stare at Ian he can.

Orazio has zoned out, swaying serenely on his seat. It might seem that he doesn't hear most of the conversation, until he says, solemnly, "Fight tomorrow. Drink tonight."

Ian continues in a vein Hadrian might like less. "Someone's got to. Unless he's got some -really- well hidden talents, that is." He leans towards Valerio, and everything about his serious voice and open expression seems frank and honest. "Look at him. He's helpless as a... as something helpless. I'm not saying that he's defenseless, but a child could beat him up."

Hadrian's eyes narrow and he turns his attention away from Lydia and down the length of the bar. His head perks up over Lydia's and begins to hover there as he cranes his neck this way and that, as though trying to listen in on the conversations taking place while the soft music continues, "I am not defenseless! I'm rusty! There's a damned difference and you'd better learn it for the sake of our friendship. And Luigi? Please put the Marshal somewhere on my schedule, ideally sometime very inconvenient for him, so that I can explain a few things to him." Hadrian's eyes narrow before he calls out, "And Camilla... never mind." Hadrian goes quiet again before he drops back down and into his seat with a quiet mutter. Then his attention returns to Lydia, but the mood seems to have been dampened. Hadrian turns his attention back to a glass of wine that's placed in front of himself.

"The Marquis is a dangerous man," Orazio says, still serene. "Never forget it - words are weapons, sharper than blades." He finishes off his glass, and puts it down on the bar. Then his hands drop to his lap and just lay there, as if dead.

"The Legate has good advice for you, lad." Valerio comments towards Ian. He almost shakes his head but that would take his eye off the prize, or target. He mutters at the younger man. "Did it ever occur to you, that may be one of the reasons I am here in full kit?" Valerio lets out a long drawn out sigh. "He doesn't need protection from me. If I break him, I have to answer to my Niece. Which means I have failed in my Duty to her and my house. Is any of this making sense yet?" Still. Breaking and hurting a little are two different things. Especially since Hadrian is the family Voice now. But even the best vocal ccords suffer random damage. Hot tea. Unwitnessed throat punch. Accidents. Then Valerio finds himself pointing at Orazio. "Exactly. The pen also can also have a long reach from the grave, too."

Ian pointedly ignores both Hadrian and Orazio because dammit, he specifically said he -wasn't- going to say Hadrian was defenseless. He keeps his attention on Valerio. "I don't have a niece, but if I did, and she were married to him, that'd be a bed she made for herself with no small amount of determination, and I'd respect her enough to let her lie in it." Sip. "Besides, the Marquessa seems like someone who can take care of herself."

"We'll discuss these topics later, Marshal," Hadrian answers sharply as he peers over Lydia's head and orange-red hair before he adds, "In fact it's time we have a long talk, very soon." There's a simmering heat, slowly building within the Marquis' words before his attention returns to the other guests, "Now, let's put all this talk of violence and the like behind us, shall we? This is a gathering for merriment, fun, enjoyment, and generally experiencing life's pleasures! Let's not forget that." Hadrian rises up to his feet, wobbling for a moment before he asks, "Who's ready to go visit the Traders Tavern! I hear the food there can be great... usually!" Hadrian seems prepared to make his way to depart as he collects a bottle of wine from Magg. Armed and ready to go, the Voice of House Mazetti seems prepared to face what life presents for his pleasures.

Orazio points at Ian. "Amen to that. The Marquessa is also a dangerous lady." He rises at Hadrian's voice to his feet. "You should go to bed. All of you. I'm going to bed. You're not invited." He sketches a bow to...well, somewhere. It's not actually at any of them. "Gods bless you all, don't remember any of this!" And then he starts moving away, so very, very carefully. Templars materialize out of the crowd to help.

The knife jugglers abruptly stop when Templars show up, one of them even mutters quietly to their compatriots. The Lycene knife jugglers begin to disappear as the shirtless men seem to be spooked by the Faith's protectors.

"Gods-damn right it is." Valerio manages not to snap back at Hadrian. Words that were forthcoming to Ian in a heated eruption is quelled for the moment. "In fact I'll leave you to the whole damned mess." He slips out of his seat and inclines his head to Orazio. "Enjoy your rest." Valerio half turns to make his own exit slowly as he hertainly is about to turn his back on knife throwing jugglers or Ian for that matter.

Ian finishes his drink and slides off the his barstool, preparing to follow Hadrian to the next stop on the tour. And... Thud. He crumples. It's not a drunken fall, it's not a stagger and drop. His legs don't even -begin- to support his weight. They collapse under him, bringing him down with them. "Fuck," he says from the floor.

Orazio has left the a handsome wooden bar with steel footrest and swivel barstools.