group
Bel offers a smile to Nico and stands, testing the strain on his wound. He sighs, noting that it's better than before, yet the ache is still there. "Thank you," he says again, grabbing his shirt and pulling it carefully over his head. It's loose, yet fits much better than the previous borrowed shirt. It's an off-white, a cream maybe, and pairs nicely with the soft tan of the trousers. Bel would definitely prefer a blue or gold somewhere, but that would easily expose his status. Rather safe than sorry.
He exits the room and heads down the stairs, breathing in the energy of the tavern. He quickly finds the other men of the party and naturally gravitates towards them, not saying much but listening closely. All around him there are people drinking and eating and dancing to the bard's jolly tune. Bel takes a moment to adjust–none of the parties back at the palace anything like the joyous atmosphere.