Gideon tapped his fingers in boredom from his position, the conversation with the Cat had stalled, their curiosities satisfied. He really was not well-suited for this kind of business, nor did many of the patrons have more than a material interest in him or passing fancy before turning to more tantalizing prospects. Spiders in their webs, at least those far and away out at Zee he could see plainly.

Finally removing himself from his pillar, he sought out a fresh glass of Greyfields, he would at least partake in their benefactor's generosity before deciding whether or not to leave. This time he seriously took a look around the room as he walked instead of casually, and to his internal surprise, he was shocked to see that not one, but Two Masters had walked in with a small contingent of Constables under his nose . . . though they kept themselves separate as was usually characteristic.

He must not have paid attention to who the Constables were escorting as they walked in, habit for these situations. From having so many run-ins with the Constabulary, Gideon would be surprised if not every other Constable in London knew him by reputation, and often to not even give the chance to recognize him so quickly, he'd make a habit of just acting uninterested and not bother even giving them a glance. While being similarly stone-faced the well-trained ones could recognize miscreants with an interest in them a block away.

But Masters . . . of course, he was foolish to suspect anyone else of organizing such a strange, yet well-stocked event and yet raise no ruckus. He knew for a fact that neither were Mr. Iron, the lack of writing equipment confirmed it, and that it was unlikely that one of them was Mr. Fires, meaning they were not Masters he'd worked with personally. They cut quite a mirror image with the one positively animated by the party, making him guess it was Mr. Wines, while the other sternly held a hookah a clawed hand, feigning aloofness and presenting disinterest as the creature blew smoke out from its hood in a smooth manner. Perhaps Mr. Spices? That would explain why the Master seemed less than enthusiastic to be anywhere near Wines, even if they had to share the same room. But at least now Gideon found someone with a commonality . . . even if it was ironically enough a Master. 

The Ruinous Captain made the silent choice to forgo more wine. Best not to make the Master even more pissed if it was Spices and the rumours about it and Wines' feuds were true. Instead, he decided to try a bit more tact, and ordered a decent cigar instead, lighting it up with a match from his pocket, he took up a new post, standing near, but not too close to the hookhah-imbibing Master and his bodyguard of Constables, he didn't want to piss them off anymore than the Master, and in silent solidarity with the creature, enjoyed his smoke as he regarded the rest of the place with general disinterest beneath his mask.