A man of average height and build with auburn hair and a well-maintained beard made his way into the hall, wearing a light sport jacket with the emblem of Natio Octavarium pinned to one lapel. He checked his watch, mumbled something to himself, and made his way over to the nearest bar to procure a neat bourbon -- not exactly the customary drink of Kusari, but an opener that he certainly needed.
Taking a sip and letting the flavours settle and express themselves around his mouth, he exhaled deeply. The events of the past twelve hours had been a complete mess, though he also considered that "complete mess" could be used to describe the events of most of his adult life. He swallowed and began to scan the room, looking for anyone he recognized. Life in the Taus alternated between eventful and dull, but in both of those cases he hadn't found much time to make friends outside of the Natio. Diplomacy was tricky, and generally had been his least favourite part of leadership, except when he could be snarky in communications.
His memory wasn't too excellent to begin with -- residual effects from the recovery from the Redshift incident, mostly, though some of the fog was there long before -- and his slightly late arrival didn't help any. He looked down with a smirk at his drink and wondered if this was going to be one of those nights that would stick with him.
Hopefully a Chrysanthemum festival would live up to the hype.
