Barcus' problem with parties is usually that he'd rather be working on a project, and that no one else there ever wants to speculate on whether the alchemical properties of bismuth will enhance the xanthosis of light-bringing compounds. He gets bored.

He's not immune to the allure of drinking and light conversation with a friend, though, and for whatever reason, he's starting to develop a real attachment to Ashton. He grins, but then gets called out on maybe-flirting, and makes a faint sputtering noise, instantly awkward.

"Well, I. I suppose some of that is natural at a celebration, surely?" Now he's grateful for the mask, deeply flustered. Stones save him. "N-no, but you're right, I haven't had enough liquor to start flirting yet. Let's see if they have anything with flavor, shall we?"