Sebastian was ever thankful for the warmth of his colleagues at the machine shop in which he worked. The owner had known Baz's father back before he took up a teaching position at Brunnhold, and had taken Baz on as a favour. Baz had, so far, made sure the man wouldn't have cause to regret it. The other men had welcomed him with open arms, and despite sticking him with a considerable majority of the dirtier work that came in, had treated him well. He had been set to spend his birthday alone, when his employer and several of the other lads whisked him off to a bawdy little bar not far from where they worked for drinks and a bit of celebrating. The rest of his group had since retired, some of them having families or other obligations to get back to, others needing to be at work bright and early the next day.
Baz, on the other hand, had been granted the next day off, and so had decided to remain at the bar and enjoy a few more beers. He was certain whatever brew it was he was drinking had been quite watered down, but had managed to build up a comfortable buzz and was content to enjoy the atmosphere of the place. The Rose was a melting pot of people and cultures, and pubs and taverns were places that made that exceptionally clear. Baz liked people-watching almost as much as he liked bird-watching. There were some parallels between the two, which amused him.
He watched as a young man, thick with liquid courage, tried to puff himself up enough to convince a charming young lady to join him for the evening in much the same way a bird would, short of hopping about and singing. At least not yet. Baz had to think that with a few more drinks in him, the lad might just be fit to start. Others caught Baz's eye as well, his attention not lingering on any one person for long enough to arouse suspicion or ire. Not through any sort of intentional diversion, really. It was more that new things would catch his attention with enough frequency that no one could really accuse him of staring.
He drained the rest of his beer and flagged down the barkeep, ordering another before turning once more to gaze out at the sea of people.