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He was speaking to himself, yes, but Ever gave him a look out of the corner of his eye, amused and disappointed both. But he didn't let go, just nodded to the door, still clinging to Zac and patting at his face to make sure no blood lingered.

No one was going to stop their entrance, though as they eased into the kitchen, half a dozen heads raised to look them over [Zac got knowing looks, as they knew something he didn't] before returning to their work. Not a single question about where they were coming from, just that familiar glance and away.

Ever made a noise and pointed, vaguely, toward the small ice box in the corner. "Gunna steal some ice, and then maybe sit down for ten or twenty..."

Poor Zac looked woefully uncomfortable, and a good person would have waved him off -- after all, Ever was fine if a bit battered, sinking down to sit on one of the kitchen stools and tipping his head to try and study the damage in the bottom of a pot. He was not, however, a particularly good person, and as Zac offered he focused on the young man again, squinting and thinking about it.

"...uh huh. There's an ice box. It's by the bar." He swiped at his mouth again. Still bleeding. It made him grimace. "Glasses right near it, too."

Ever sat with his head tipped back, pressing ice against the side of his nose, against his mouth, against his jaw, and blowing out a slow sight. Behind Zac, out of sight [but only when he wasn't looking] two of the girls made crude gestures, and Ever struggled not to smile. He was going for stoic. But perhaps it showed in his eyes.

"Water, maybe?" It came out slow, touched with feigned uncertainty, and was neatly cut off by clarification coming through the door: two girls in matching costumes that turned them into elaborate birds of paradise, with all but their naughtiest bits covered. They chattered and laughed, raised their eyebrows at Ever, and continued through the kitchen to the main room.

As they went, Ever's eyes settled on Zac, instead. Searching, perhaps, for some glimmer of interest out of him. After all, only a certain sort of young man would be utterly unswayed by the jiggling...tail feathers...as they retreated.

"...water'd be good."

"If they haven't tossed me out yet, they're not likely to." It was cheerful enough, though, perhaps reading more into the lack of interest. The very tips of his fingers brushed Zach's as he reached for the water, head still tipped under his rapidly-melting bundle of ice. He was going to have to pay for that. It was hard to get ice...

"Honestly, I think they like having a man around who's not likely to pinch or prod or otherwise invade their...personal space." Amusing how lewd Ever could make that sound, with a shift of his eyebrows and a flash of a grin before he drank.

Poor Zac was very awkward, and it made Ever's grin sharpen, made his eyes go darker behind a damp fringe of hair. His expression was rakish, certainly, and probably just a bit intimidating. An unapologetic flirt, in this society, could get in quite a bit of trouble, but --

"Best run for the hills quickly, if you're going to run." He went for it anyway, teasing, the look slowly sliding away to consider the rest of the kitchen. "And cross your fingers none of that group recognized me."

There was a pause, and then the start of a snort; the start of a laugh, something that bubbled up and then hurt and he struggled to smother it again, putting his drink down. Dangerously close to sloshing it all over the place. Not the first time someone had made that kind of assumption about him, definitely, and Ever didn't look embarrassed about it, but --

"...no, because I haven't been out of school that long, and their brothers might remember stories about me." Which was not, of course, much better than what Zach had assumed. His eyes were still bright. But maybe that was because they were watering in pain.

"There's none of that business here, and you watch your mouth about it or you will get tossed out." He blotted at his face again. "Just a show in these walls."

"More'n four years out, might be out of memory." Ever had to swallow, thickly, and his eyes went around the kitchen again, perhaps hunting for someone who would toss him to work -- or someone who would chastise him for not being at work. There was noise wafting into the kitchen. The bustle was outside, was in the other room, people moving chairs and tables and tidying up the location.

Safe, for the time being.

His eyes are still bright as he looks back to Zac. Ever has finally lowered the ice, melted mess that it is, and beneath his nose is swollen -- but not that bad. He'll recover. "I still have the uniform in a trunk somewhere, I think."

"I should work, or else I'll be on the streets." But it came dry, teasing maybe, as Ever finally worked his way up to stand. There was blood on his shirt, at his collar, beneath the loosened knot of his tie, and he looked like s**t -- but he was mobile, yes, mobile and able to work, and there was setting up to do. He drew in a breath to make sure that everything came through clear --

It would serve, unfortunately. He sighed, as he looked Zac over. "Gotta lever people into costumes, move tables, wipe things down..."

This wasn't what an education from a promenant private school usually taugh,t a thought which left his eyes amused. "But if you wanted to come around later, though, or tomorrow, or this weekend, I could likely sneak you in the back, and steal some ale..."