[ By all accounts, Nate shouldn't be here.

He bought his way in for the purpose of memorizing faces and attempting to hobnob, genteelly depositing one of a number of artifacts he brought back from Tibet with the proctor presiding over the auction. A thin, humorless Rich Person™ smile and a nice suit did the rest, and they didn't ask about the provenance of the piece when he rattled off a few sentences about its humble origins in the mountainous regions north of India.

Like many similar events he's attended (or robbed) over the course of his career, questions regarding legality are few and far between. It's more about the pomp and circumstance, the atmosphere and the money, and Christ, but this place reeks of people begging to be divested of their valuables.

He no longer has the itch of sticky fingers but it's hard not to dislike the affair on the whole just by virtue of exclusivity. No matter how approving the company is of his presence, Nate is reminded of the conversation he overheard at the Rossi Estate while looking over the lot list - some smug millionaire talking about a crêpe vendor he had beaten by thugs for telling him his French wasn't very good - and appears more poised and observant than he is directly comfortable.

Drink in hand, arbitrarily fiddling with his tie, he wanders the floor and makes idle conversation, keeping an eye out for the powerful players. ]

[ It's not difficult to spot him.

Not only is Tim in a white suit, but he's standing awkwardly and uncomfortably in the midst of the crowd, clutching a drink like it's a lifeline, brow wrinkled in distinct unsurety. Nate never went to high school, but he imagines this is what some of the kids look like at prom. Standoffishly stiff in posture, eyes wide and alert and bordering on fearful. He looks like the person who brought him here abandoned him - and Nate can only imagine that's the case, because this doesn't seem like the sort of event Tim would attend unless coerced - or got separated somewhere in the well-dressed fray.

More than anything it reminds Nate of the first time he had to pretend to look casual at an auction he was casing for a job, all nerves and ramrod tension. Sully's assertion that he act natural was a small comfort when he knew he didn't have the bank account to back up his tux, but after a few practice runs he got a handle on the subtle art of looking like he knew what the Hell he was doing.

Ultimately, that's all it takes. A healthy amount of confidence goes a long way in making people think you belong. ]

You lose your date?

[ He asks conversationally, giving Tim the early warning of engagement in the form of a brief touch to his elbow, stepping into his field of vision. ]

[ Nate knows the moment his name is called - something they're touting as "an evening of adventure," which is more like a guarantee of physical activity, dinner, and extensive conversation about history - that he's probably made a mistake. It’s for a good cause, he knows, and it's not like he doesn't think that schmoozing wouldn't go a long way politically, but these sorts of games aren’t his to play in the first place and because of that he tries to look as natural as possible when he waves.

The crowd is small, a little more localized and weirdly interested in buying dates for some reason, and for that Nate is relieved - saves him the awkwardness of dealing with the large group in separate areas of this event.

Then the bidding starts and he feels uncomfortable all over again. ]

[ooc; if you want some sort of wildcard, just hmu on plurk first at uncalendula to give me a heads-up first and feel free to tag!]