also open.
Cool stone calm meanders slowly through the crowd, calm tired dragon eyes taking in the sights from under sunglasses. Long hair waves free today but for the two braids at either temple that keep it out of Merle's lined face, and if the smoke slowly issuing from his mouth seems a little more continuous than his hand-rolled cigarillo seems able to account for. smells a little more like hot coals than seems possible, don't question it. Allow the dragon this temporary indulgence as he watches the games of chance. It takes a trickster to know a trickster, and while the general public might confuse his easy smile with that of grandfather taking in the sights any other habitual grifter would surely recognize the hint of professional interest.
Finding a corner to sun himself in isn't difficult, being sometimes half-lizard enough cold blood in his make-up to give the sun a special appeal. This isn't his home ground but it is his brother's, and he surveys it like the aged mercenary he is, like a marooned pirate watching another's ship loot a navy cruiser through binoculars. There's a remoteness to him as he discards his dying cigarillo and pulls another out of his shirt pocket - the only thing he carries on him today other than the keys which rest beside them, Merle is nothing if not the reverse of an ideal pick-pocket victim - to be lit with a quick, concentrated breath of fire after he glances around and turns so that only someone watching him closely would notice that he doesn't simply use a lighter. The trick is in the feint, after all.
People see what they want to, what they're directed toward. Merle's eyes play over the crowd patiently, in search of nothing in particular. He has no agenda today. Perhaps he'll run into Joe when the other man is done circulating among his co-workers, perhaps he'll see another member of the band. Perhaps no familiar faces will catch his deceptively deliberate, slow-moving attention. The sun is shining down and he's got tobacco and weed working through his lungs. There's a man working the crowd like a pro across the way and its an absolute pleasure to watch his hands and mouth moving in perfect counterpoint. There's a girl who isn't so good but has tits that almost make up for it right in his line of sight if he just tilts his head a little, in case he gets bored. It's all good. Merle settles in, exhales another mouthful of acrid smoke, and effectively turns to stone.