Without any particular cue that he's being suspected of anything more than being impertinent, he's yet to make it abundantly clear he intends to pursue a very specific agenda here. The fact that it's a very mortal man he's contemplating his unabashed cheek towards and not his god? He's not thinking about that, the quiet background of his mind quelled, satisfied as though it's feasted and needs to slumber.

It isn't long before a bold duo of souls in matching masks encrusted with jewels transitioning from sapphire to violet strikes out, makes a beeline for him in a way he would have given them more credit for if they hadn't had a chalice of something rich, spiced and very alcoholic sloshing in their hands. He's almost at the very heart of the room by the time they cut him off, ducking in front of him and waving him down to stop. The sight could be considered comical, neither man nor woman now fussing at his edges reaching the height of his shoulder.

Nobody here knows who he is save one man, and apparently that's caused enough intrigue for him to become the racy subject of the clumps of patrons gathered nearby. If these people could climb him, he doesn't doubt that they would given the hands and fingers squeezing at him as though trying to find purchase. The air in here is rife with the kind of desperation that isn't completely unfamiliar to him, though he hasn't got too much time for tolerating it in great swathes.

The couple pawing at his thick forearms - one of them is either side of him - are keen to have him join them, they say, somewhere a little more private. It's unfortunate they're barely finished propositioning him before another woman cuts in, deciding she would like to throw her hat in the ring too. Soon he's surrounded, the stir causing enough of a ruckus that it would be quite difficult to ignore.