Enver Gortash is practiced in doing what he intends while buttoning up anything else. So he's engaging a relative stranger he still hasn't managed to mentally identify, answering questions smoothly and politically as they continue to grill him about his technical ambitions, dodging questions about how one gets the experience to be a weapons expert to the city elite, and some definite implications that "strong alliances" means something more suggestive. All making a mental note of where the Dark Urge is in the crowd.

Because he has to. Because this could be about to become a bloodbath, but alliance or no, Bane would expect him to intervene in order to preserve at least their part of the plan.

Even if it were not, part of him wishes that it was.

The locals in the upper city, after a night of drinking and snacking on a lot of things with likely very illicit ingredients (because excess and a night of no consequences brought the freaks out of what were often very boring people), could devolve very quickly well before the time to unmask. And the Dark Urge, just a stranger in costume to them and not the literal wolf in disguise that he is, could draw attention, as comely individuals will in this setting where the rich left their inhibitions at the door. Gortash partly wonders what he thinks, of how people not from his cult clamor to be close to him, paw at him with reckless abandon, and are likely making poetic passes about unsheathing that are going to get less and less clever as the drinking continues.

But mostly? He hates it. And loathes that he has thoughts on it at all.

A stupid hypothetical that had irritated him before now on full display and he cannot even fully ignore it lest there be an incident.