Having rested his weary feet and indulged in some of Mr. Wines' signature product, Gideon took the opportunity to have a more serious look at his surroundings. The Ruinous Captain had no love for gossip or courtesy, but this 'soiree' was at least more palpable than many he had seen. He'd still prefer to be enjoying harder liquor and listening to the bawdy songs of the Dockers and Zailor down at the Medusa's Head, the kind of lifestyle that would make the Presbyterians fume, but he found the atmosphere tolerable.

Besides, when not engaging in any particular streak of ambition, it often paid to remain a more silent observer of these sorts of affairs. Tittering sycophants and scheming spiders could often cause one trouble if one wasn't careful, which many weren't. Hence why the population of pests in London is booming, both real and figurative. 

Not intending to look like he'd noticed, Gideon espied a particular gentleman who'd taken an interest in him and where he sat, before the man's interest evidently shifted elsewhere as he moved to chat with some of the ladies. Gideon suspected him to be a man of some means, but not necessarily one to get his hands dirty, and one who's mind was constantly in motion. Likely a Bookie or some kind of High-Roller. He lacked the well-rehearsed grace of a Noble. 

All the same, he didn't fully appreciate being appraised like a piece of meat by a buyer he wasn't familiar with. So, quickly downing the rest of his glass in a bitter swig, The Ruinous Captain got out of his comfy seat and carefully approached, stepping past various party-goers. Not too close though, he leaned against a nearby wall and crossed his arms with in an expression of amusement beneath his mask . . . towering, dour, and almost fiendish amusement as he watched the gentleman exchange pleasantries with two ladies and a Cat. 

With any luck, he wouldn't frighten or intimidate the man too badly whenever he realized he'd moved.