@siblinghunters is somewhere among the guests.
This was a song he knew already, which allowed his hands to wander the upright bass of their own accord, not tied to his reading the sheets of music set out before him. Keeping his gaze tilted downward, Dara scanned the crowd of people waltzing, adjusting to focus on such subtleties as their posture and gaits, trying to pick out the most interesting of the lot.
Though all were dressed in fine silks and velvets and laces, he noted that there were a number of working class folk mingling with those of higher society; their frames and steps were easy to pick out, as often they had an air of brutish confidence crossed with clumsiness-- signs of being more accustomed to less delicate affairs as this. Yet more, he noticed that there were others still. The faint glints of steel, and the shapes of all manner of concealed weaponry betrayed the presence of several hunters at the ball, undoubtedly at least minimally armed.
He could not blame them, of course, noting the weight of the Evelyn concealed under his robes. It paid to be prepared for the worst, even at such an event as this.
One such hunter noticed his gaze. Damn. He held it for a split second longer, in an effort to not jerk away conspicuously, before looking back to his music stand, pretending to read it. Normally, this sufficed for diverting attention away from himself, but he felt eyes boring into the side of his head. He silently hoped it was just his imagination, and that the individual in question would not notice anything amiss, or potentially pick him out as an impostor band member.
