Siana/Foxe | evening
"Well met, Banes," was Foxe's greeting, familiar but not overly so. He raised his drink, nodded his head, and took to the empty spot beside her, feeling an odd swell of appreciation for someone who wasn't already sloppily drunk. The sky was starting to darken and already too many had made fools of themselves. Though Foxe couldn't quite blame them for their antics, as he, too, had had his share of foolishness in his younger days, he couldn't help but wonder that perhaps this was what it felt like to start being old. He would much rather watch and keep warm with one drink than stumble over himself fumbling the lyrics to old shanties.
"Enjoying the festivities, I hope?" he asked pleasantly, leaning back against the wall as someone rushed past them, nearly knocking into him. "They certainly are."