He had enough draught for a couple of hours of being in social situations and still needed to make an order for some more. If he downed it right before the party he could stay for long enough to awkwardly hover around the back corners of the room, meet some mafiosos to do work for and then bounce.

Kir glanced into a mirror and noticed his appearance, A hoodie and jeans would likely be frowned upon at what would likely be a familially arranged engagement party. It would have to be for Kir to be invited so wantonly. Opening up his spellbook, Kir found a minor illusion that for now could do the trick. His visage in the mirror shimmered slightly and in place of the hoodie was an expensive seeming navy shirt with his hair, once wild and messy now tamed and somewhat neat.

Kir could keep a weak illusion like this up for a good while so he kept it. If he hung about an empty area for a while the subway home would probably be empty and he could make his way home as the draught began to wear off. As he stared silently hunched over his spellbook one of the waitstaff approached him.

“Hi, what can I get you?”. The waiter of seemingly androgynous identification wore the practiced smile that most servers developed, though theirs reflected some form of authenticity in their clearly attractive appearance.

Kir looked up, the expression moving from thought to that of a nervous child, wide eyed.

“I...um...well..uh” his voice broke with the final um as Kir struggled desperately to make eye contact. The waiter stood keeping their smile, clothed in a white shirt with a black apron around their trousers. Kir stared down at his spellbook.

“A hot chocolate please” He muttered almost imperceptibly, a comfort drink.

“Sure thing” a jovial voice followed by a swift exit. Kir dropped his head onto the table.

“You always do that” he muttered under his breath. Yelling at himself inside his head for his failure to act as a functioning human.

Many such social interactions left him a babbling mess, the draught was still working but that only essentially kept him from a mental breakdown. He sat with his head on the table for a few minutes thinking about his plans. Rummaging through his bag Kir found a pad of something similar to post-it notes but white and of higher quality.

He checked quickly but sighed when he couldn’t find a pen and scratched the back of his head. Preparing to cast an unnecessary and time consuming spell a pen appeared before him, held by the server that took his order a few minutes ago. They held a cup and saucer in their right hand and offered a pen with their left. Kir sheepishly received it, keeping his eyes on the table. Hastily and with no particular care he scrawled a message on the paper. With satisfaction he ripped it off the pad and threw it in the air, the page combusting into nothing once a sufficient distance from him.

“Thank you” he mumbled out, handing the pen back, the waiter placed the cup down, a steaming hot chocolate with a heart and two marshmallows.

Kir glanced up and was met with a wink as the waiter turned and continued to the bar, this naturally caused Kir to redden to a point where he was barely able to focus on a single word in his spellbook. Kir was eventually able to regain composure, though it took some time. This wasn’t the first time this had happened, Kir's frequent inability to speak like a rational person, allowed people to misinterpret his acts as some love-struck awe at their apparent beauty, even though it was simple garden variety fear.

Minutes passed and another entered the cafe with a ring of the bell on the door, wearing a heavy coat a longhaired lanky individual entered the establishment and scanned the tables. Noticing Kir’s presence he took a seat before the man and waited to gain his attention, though at the moment it was in his spellbook. The man coughed loudly but when that did nothing he rapped hard on the table. Kir snapped out of his focus and looked up to the new man.

“Luther, thanks for coming, can I make the same order as last time with three more of each”.

The man stared silently, his expression unmoving. His eyes seemed to command the space, one being red and the other blue. Seemingly out of nowhere the man produced a cigarette from his hand and lit with a snap of his fingers. Taking a long drag he blew the smoke directly in Kir's direction who dispersed it with a small gust spell.

“Stability draughts have gone up 4% and Desideratums 3”.

“What why?”

“Ever since the Baltic royals put a tariff on pulvis exports the ingredients have become harder to come by, I have my sources but cost of business is increasing by the day” The man scratched at his tattoo covered hands. Kir nervously ran his hands through his hair and began to tap his foot.

“I don’t...I don’t have….drop one of the Desideratums, can you send it by Friday” The man took another long drag.

“Sunday, I just had another client make a large order” the man leaned in and his expression changed. He took a moment, as if deciding what to say and whether or not he should say it.

“Can I ask, why do you buy from me? Nothing you get is illegal and my prices are higher”. Kir paused for a moment.

“I can count on you for discretion, I don’t want my doings logged by a Surveyor” The man nodded, seemingly satisfied with the answer. One learned not to pry into these things. The man stood back up but waited before leaving from the table.

“I don’t usually try to dissuade my clients from purchasing, thats just bad business, but, you order and drink more Desideratum draughts then anyone I’ve ever met. Try and eat some food at some point. Or it’ll become as bad as any of the shit I sell”. Luther made his departure and Kir followed him with his eyes for a few moments, though eventually his figure became obscured within the crowd.

Kir was usually rather imperceptive but even he noticed now the afeared looks he gained from the waitstaff having met such a figure in this establishment. He basically just invited a drug lord into a nice corner cafe. As such Kir followed his exit, this time the kind servers looks shifting to one of guard and pity.

He walked along Hallowvale until the draught wore off and took refuge in one of the many side streets, sliding down a wall and studying his spellbook for any inefficiencies or improvements in a futile attempt to distract himself. Once he got home he might be able to reach the next stage. The necessary time passed for Kir to realise the event he was called to was to occur. The streets atmosphere had shifted, during the day it held the guise of a busy business thoroughfare with small shopping stretches, outside 2 cent casters peddled tricks and sold their goods. Though the nightlife was different.

The red light district which was previously restricted to the further parts of the Hallowvale now extended right into the Gallows entrance. Intoxicated mages, warriors and workers roamed the streets, the once simple flame lighting turned into buzzing arcane signs and lights that lit up the boulevard in brilliant colouring.

Music, modern and traditional blasted out of buildings now functioning as night clubs, groups of people loitered around the front of buildings harassing passersby for little to no reason. Arcanists stood at corners with bags open performing showy demonstrations to excited party goers. As one walked up further near The Desert Jewel the proliferation of intoxicated tourists and partiers steadily declined, though the presence of crime and danger increased by a considerable margin. Kir's disguise was functional, a sort of controlled chaos to his hair, a navy shirt tucked into slacks and nice quality shoes, he extended the illusion in the free time he had.

Two guards stood by the open doors of The Desert Jewel, the doors now open and the interior abuzz with activity. A steady stream of finely dressed wealthy individuals gently sauntered in and about. Kir could see from the exterior the warm light glowing as people wandered about mingling, a standing affair it seemed. A live band performed on the right side, not loud enough to draw attention, but to a volume that allowed the music to permeate through the air creating a refined and proper atmosphere. As Kir approached he expected to be held up but the guard that he had previously met, now with an enormous sword strapped to his back allowed him through without any hassle.

Once inside Kir gently began to observe the room, the largest concentration of people was in the back left corner of the room, a beautiful woman dressed in a fine black dress stood by a man in a matching black suit. Both sported dark brown hair and held conventionally attractive features.

Guests one by one, though not in any distinct line, found their way to the couple and greeted them, sometimes handshakes, sometimes hugs. The woman remained relatively quiet, greeting kindly then allowing the man to take over in conversation. While the woman maintained a smile for the duration of Kir's observation there was obvious discomfort. Leaning against a wall, hidden in the shade cast by the staircase was another figure a few meters from the couple.

A muscular behemoth of a woman, tall, though she seemed to blend into the wall. Deathly pale skin and long black hair braided down her back, one black tatooed line went down from her hairline over her eye and down her neck, another going from one ear over the nose to the either side of her face. She wore a dark leather cuirass and leather grieves on her wrist. This in stark contrast with the rest of the guest. The majority of her arms were exposed, showing thick worked muscles. An enormous greatsword was strapped across her back complimenting the at-ease yet battle-ready stance she took. Though most people seemed to pay her no mind, Kir noticed her quickly.

A bit away from the woman sat Mr Sirani greeting other guests, seemingly guests more in line with Kir’s presence here, business partners or potential allies. After all thats what these events were for. Kir loitered around the edges of the room, attempting to avoid attention and blend, though his youth found him stand out a bit, obviously the engaged party, the man and woman were a few years older then Kir and they had a few friends close to their age but Kir was noticeably the youngest person that was visible.

“Maybe that's why everyone calls me ‘kid’” he mumbled to himself.

His loitering seemed to have caught the eye of the woman seemingly guarding the subject of this gathering as he noticed a stern, discerning glare being shot in his direction. This found Kir returning a look, inadvertently his eyes turned a glowing blue as he instinctively began to observe this woman's aura.

Powerful, angry, a slight hint of goliath history though at this distance and the amount she was concealing her aura made it difficult to tell. The look from the woman turned from discerning to furious and as Kir realized what he was actually doing went red and averted his gaze. He made his way over to Mr Sirani as perhaps a way of proving the merit of his presence here. Sirani finished his pleasantries with an elderly couple and gave a smile to Kir.