Ryan himself was careful about his identity, though not overtly so. He definitely should be, all things considered - he was a criminal, for Christ's sake, and oftentimes interacted with people in that same legal standing. He wasn't stereotyping, just 'guessing' that they wouldn't take well to him. It was cold, hard fact, and he knew because when they became lousy with all their own shitty, homemade liquor, that's when any typical anti-Prohibition radicalist became comfortable saying whatever the hell they wanted. Actually, for most, the bullshit started even when they were sober. Typically Ryan could nod along in hearty agreement as if he truly did believe the 'fucking fruits were ruining the bar scene.' It was a little odd, because some 30 years ago things changed and people were more open about all of this - drag balls had become more well-known, frequented by people not in the community themselves, gay literature was increasingly successful despite the public understanding what world it came from. 

But those times were fading away because, somehow, bar owners of 'normal' clubs felt that the new competition would hurt them and working-class men felt like their familial hierarchies could be threatened, whatever. Ryan didn't much care. He lived life secretively anyway, his sexual preference only part of that. Hell, he barely told people his real name. There were plenty of masks he could throw on to protect not just his sexuality, but also his controversial career path, his customers, his business partners. Ryan had plenty to hide. He couldn't imagine what Brendon went through. In New York it wasn't as bad as other places - there were still drag shows that weren't quite as underground as they probably should be to stay safe, still speakeasies hosted by and for the gay and therefore 'othered' community, still dive bars that openly labeled themselves as specifically gay-friendly if not -only. It just wasn't as easy as, say, ten years ago, and both of them were far too young then to really participate or even know to be part of it. Well. Maybe not Brendon. He was as 'fruity' as they came. He'd probably known from birth - not that Ryan would make that joke to his face.

Maybe, though, he had a good enough sense of humour anyway. Ryan had taken a strong liking to him already. He was confident but proving a shy streak, what with spluttering at a simple [i]wink,[/i] and honestly, Ryan wasn't even that slick. He watched Brendon's recovery with a fond smile, wishing they had no masks so he could admire in full the hint of little crinkles around Brendon's eyes whenever he had a full grin on - yeah, he definitely bookmarked that image the last time they saw each other, and the tiny preview through their covers didn't do it enough justice. [i]Should be.[/i] Confidence back. Ryan wasn't sure which version he liked better. Either way...

[i]Grand of you to say, sport.[/i] 'Sport.' Ryan was familiar with the nickname though it wasn't all that common, but it rolled off of Brendon's tongue in a particularly charming way, sweet and friendly. And, actually, not quite as belittling and 'father-to-son' like in the way it came from others. He smirked at the tiniest amount of contact from Brendon, the little nudge of his foot, and really it seemed like a nothing gesture, but after a while of living closeted he'd become adept at recognizing these minute nonverbal cues. Not like they had a lot of options. So Brendon was interested. For good measure, he made a passing comment about Dallon's bar, the audience specifically. [i]He absolutely is. And what’s even better is that he doesn’t even know it.[/i] Ryan imitated his sympathetic look to a T. Maybe he could start up a straight-passing bar to balance things out, poor Weekes. 

Even despite all their little secret signals, Ryan invading his space more than he had been was a risky move, and he was greeted with open arms - specifically, Brendon's leg coming to rest against his, like their time of interaction totalled up to more than a couple hours, tops. Fortunately, too, because Ryan tended to jump the gun. He didn't have all the time in the world. [i]Wonderful.[/i] That voice. He knew Brendon was a singer, but really, he didn't realize a range like that could be so fatally attractive. [i]I make time.[/i] Oh. He had a way with words, too. Interesting. Ryan let the silence linger, his gaze returning to his glass while it seemed both of them retreated to their thoughts, and suddenly Brendon was preparing to stand. [i]Apologies, old sport, I’m just going to the restroom.[/i] Right, so Brendon caught his drift, earlier. If it was anything else, he'd naïvely believe the excuse. The way things were going, this was nothing but a proposition. [i]I won’t keep you waiting long.[/i] Brendon brushed his arm in passing; Ryan kept his drink in hand, smiling casually. Yeah, definitely on the same page.

For a few moments, Ryan just observed the place, listened to the sound of distant conversations, glasses bumping behind the counter, barrels still being carried in. Some fucking luck he had, seriously. This was the first break he'd caught in a while. After a suitable amount of time he placed his emptied drink down, walked to the bathrooms, leaned against the door as he closed and locked it. Ample space, too; seriously, some higher power was supporting them. He grinned at Brendon unwithholdingly now, immediately coming close and backing him against the sink, hands finding either side of his face. [b]"You don't mind...?"[/b] And he didn't wait while asking, just lifted the mask from his face gently, set it on the porcelain so he could study him more closely. He figured the hair was a touchy subject, as pristine as it looked, so he carefully drew his fingers through the strands at his temple, framing his features just to admire for a moment. [b]"When I saw you for the first time, I didn't think I'd be lucky enough for someone this handsome to... be interested."[/b] Be gay, actually. Usually it was just the attractive guys that were, in fairness, but Ryan never got to meet them anyway. 

Clearly wasting no time, Ryan pressed even closer, aligning his body with Brendon's and slipping his hands down to his waist as if it were a natural fit. [b]"Mr. Blake, to be perfectly candid, usually I become better acquainted first."[/b] He looked at him as if he was reconsidering. Really, though, there was no question. [b]"I can multitask. Tell me about yourself - I like the sound of your voice."[/b] And he wouldn't mind hearing more of the range, but they sort of had all the time in the world in here, plus if he kept Brendon talking while he explored, well. He'd learn. In any case, they didn't find this arrangement to [i]talk,[/i] so Ryan searched his face briefly for any apprehension before finding his way to his jaw, planting delicate kisses while working just the top couple buttons of his shirt, making space on his neck for the same attention.