This was what it was all about, wasn’t it? Good people. Music. Wine. Everyone gathered to enjoy merriment without the threat of Roman invasion. He smirked, wiping his breastplate. Straightening his back, he took a sip of wine and scanned the festivities. His eye spotted Carsis and Lavinia. He jolted when Lavinia’s eyes turned his way, pretending to be busy with guard duty. Something caught his eye—a person he hadn’t seen before. He mused aloud, voice a soft whisper of reverence. His chalice slipped from his hand, caught by Nikaia. He huffed at the teasing, pink dusting his ears. He found the person near the weaver’s shop. Artes’ breath felt stolen, his heart beating rapidly. “They’re the most captivating creature I’ve ever seen…” he murmured. He cleared his throat, straightened his shoulders, and strode towards them. He sidled up beside them, trying to be casual, one hand resting on his sword. “A fair evening, is it not?” he asked, boyish nerves creeping on to his projected bravado. “I have-… I have not seen you around the city. I am Artes, guard in the city militia.” He leaned back, an elbow seeking to prop on the stall beside him. His elbow shifted and Artes was sent stumbling hard into the cart, clumsily knocking free a stack of woven baskets. He fumbled gracelessly, huffing inside the cage of the basket before his hands would pry it from around his head, face beet red as he looked back towards Anon with a defeated chuckle, confidence deflating slightly at his own slip up before he weakly spoke again. “I ah-… didn’t catch your name.”