The Mammoth New Year's Eve party was the very last place that Luther wanted to be. He had fought going up until the last minute, barely put together a costume, and had insisted that Connor come and leave the car somewhere out front. If things went south, he wanted a quick and easy escape. The masquerade was the only reason that he agreed, in the end. As security for Ana and a valuable individual who could be counted on to suss out likely threats, he was told that he would be paid handsomely for his services, and the fact that he could hide his distinctive face behind a mask made it feasible. So he'd gone. His suit was finely made, picked out and tailored by someone who Ana had contracted, and covering his face was a rather ferocious lion mask. Bared teeth, the beginnings of a mane fringe around the edges which looked like real fur, whiskers that glittered slightly in the light. Despite the fact that his costume of high-society glamor was complete, Luther still didn't quite look as though he belonged. For one, he barely spoke to anyone. Several men and women who came up to Ana to make small talk eyed him curiously. Some even tried to engage him in their conversation, but his short, clipped replies didn't encourage chatter, and he kept looking around like he was gauging the quickest escape -- which he was, naturally.
Snagging a champagne flute from some waiter's tray, Luther turned to Ana when they had a moment of respite from the crowd. Connor may have gone off to try and find Sylvie, he wasn't honestly sure. The glass was comically dwarfed by his large hands, but he didn't seem to notice as he drained it in one long gulp. "I don't know why I agreed to this," he grumbled for her ears only, stepping up just behind her until his chest was almost brushing her elbow. "I'd rather take a hundred black market jobs than play bodyguard for a night." Whine whine, bitch bitch. The man might be a terrifying hitman with the strength of ten, but at the moment, he sounded more like a child.