Eduard knew the kind of reaction he was probably going to get from cynical, working class young adults like the ones he'd been talking to. That's why he wasn't too surprised when most of the response he received from them was teasing and jaded comments, with a fairly aggressive exchange of the waistcoat from the taller one. He just kept a blank face the whole time, not really reacting to anything they did or said, pretty disinterested and apathetic himself to their less than savoury replies. He just passed them the cigarette carton in return before they wandered off, before he quickly slipped on the waistcoat. It was a little big, but not noticeably so, and the undercover detective swiftly buttoned it up and was soon on his way as well. The next issue was getting in.

Despite Montag's now-complete uniform, the amount of security and staff personnel surrounding the backyard entrance, with which he hoped to enter the villa from, meant that he probably wasn't going to go in there without heads being turned and questions being asked. And, even if he had means to, he had a feeling the men there weren't going to be tempted like the two waiters had. For the pay they would probably get, they weren't going relax for just a few cigarettes. And so, he'd play the long game.

It wasn't his ideal plan, but Eduard wasn't in the mood to take risks at the moment. Too much was at stake, supposedly at least. Walking with purpose, he strode over to the table hosting the evening's refreshments for the waiters to offer around: chilled bottles of champagne, compact and portable beer taps and large, clean platters with decadent canapes arranged decoratively on them. Sighing inwardly, the young man expertly lifted a platter of devilled eggs and turned towards the heart of the party, jazz still blaring in the background. He'd done this sort of thing before, so he felt comfortable knowing he at least looked the part as he wandered around, following snapping fingers to their beck and call while not saying a word. The first rule of these things was to always be barely seen and not heard, mingling upper-class men didn't want to have their conversations interrupted or bogged down by a common tongue. 

The other thing about upper-class men was that, in most cases, their stomachs were deeper than their pockets, and so Montag soon found himself with an empty plate not too long after he'd started. But even so, the dark-haired detective knew his finite amount of time was running shorter with every wasted moment, meaning there was no hesitation before he slipped back out of the crowd as unnoticed as he'd entered it and approached the backyard entrance once again. 

A group of three security guards stood around the entrance, eyes scanning for potential trouble like hawks searching for prey, when their collective vision honed in on the approaching waiter. It seemed as though the other staff had dispersed around the grounds, some still around in the backyard chatting amongst themselves, while others had probably entered the villa itself. Eduard didn't let those thoughts affect his performance though, and he kept up appearances as he got closer to the human security barriers blocking his way in.

[color=goldenrod]"Evening gentleman. I've got an empty plate to return to the kitchen, mind if I pass?"[/color] Montag was aware of the various possibilities of how things could go wrong, but he tried his best to focus on the matter at hand. After all, he thought as he awaited the response of the three men that stood before him, there were other options for him to take, even if they probably weren't as neat and tidy as this one. And the detective knew, probably better than anyone present that evening, that trouble would follow him, wherever he went.