Whiskey definitely isn't what he expects, that's something he expects from rowdier people, but it gets a grin. That's the only thing to shake him from crowd and reverie. Until the comment comes.

He blinks and then laughs. "Oh, yeah. Not big, big crowds but like this?" He takes a moment, observing the room. "This is good."

A group of men laugh together, making jabs and laughing harder. A woman stands proudly by the pool table, observing her kingdom. A couple sits off to the side, lost in their own world. Another pair bickers jokingly, gesturing at the sports teams on the tv.

"It is nice," He says, nodding. "I grew up playing in the plaza of my town. I was underage and they didn't let me in the bars-- especially since everyone knew me and what trouble I was. Then of course, I spoke of my primos. Whenever we got a moment's peace and a bottle of anything we were using both to get rowdy. I'd have to tell them, no, enough, I don't want to play another song." He laughs fondly.

"But I liked playing with people. I liked just being there. My wi... ex-wife was the same, actually. Just for her family mind you, didn't like crowds, didn't like strangers. But whenever she and her family gathered she'd stand to the side and get this look. Like she was happy just to see everyone else happy too. She'd watch them... and I'd watch her.

He goes quiet, eyes soft. And then he shakes his head. "But that's me being a lovesick fool. Tell me. You a crowd, quiet, or sideline person?"