Daniel stood to one side of the doorway, wait. Watching. Observing who was coming. Who was going. Who was serving. Who might be serving Them.
There was anotherChangeling… wait? Yes? No? Maybe? The woman’s pale flesh looked almost like porcelien and her limbs moved almost like they were being jerked around by strings. At first he thought for sure she was a particularly disturbing Mannequin. However, after a closer look (before turning away to not be caught staring), he was pretty sure she was fey touched. Either that or had very thin mask.
Then there was the riveting woman with the confident stride. Even without a fey aspect she could easily be of the Fairest. If the color of her hair was anything to go on (the Mask was hardly something to could place judgement by) she might be a Flamesiren.
Then there was the bartender. If anyone looked like they belonged among the mad and lost it was him. He exude a wild and manic air. That grin. Of course that could just as easily be in line with the theme as an indication he could Moonborn.
“Terri!” he replied to the Steepscrambler, instantly. Even without her fairy feathers and ears, he recognized her instantly. “Um, yeah,” it took him a moment to realize what she wasn’t using double speak and talking about his abrupt change to being slightly transparent. “I just had it cut. It was getting kind of shaggy.” His hair was (as it always was with the Mask) blond, he had to remind himself. The Darkling reminded himself that he really needed to hang out with mortal more often. Even Terri’s comment had almost thrown him for a loop there.
“And yeah, a drink sounds great.” He was tempted to tell her why he was here (through code of course). However, if there were Loyalist about, he didn’t want to tip them off.
He almost jumped when L'aire whispered in his ear. Even without the powerful mantle present, it hid her presence till the last moment.
“Lurking’s what I do now. Good for the soul, don’cha know,” he said back quietly, attempt to hide his start behind calm.
Following Terri, he approached the bar.
“Water please,” he asked Crowley. A declaration of intent. The Darkling was going without alcohol this evening. Maybe he was playing DD. Maybe he was AA. It didn’t matter what was assumed, so long as the message got across. "And you can put their's," he indicated the two Queens (one former, one current) "On my tab." He gave a smile to the roguish man a couple seats down. To Minnesotan, hospitality was a challenge.