He can't say it was 'eye-catching' but he was sure even The Berserkers' newcomers had come to grasp Tequila's sightlessness. Despite this, the boy would never say that he was genuinely blind. Perhaps he may use the five-letter word to oversimplify his...uh, condition, but no one would really know for sure if it was a physical state he had been born into. The music, however, was something he certainly hard making him press the delicate palms of his hands against his ears, not particularly pleased to hear the brand of music that sounded like it was blaring. He tried to focus on other things such as the chatter of some men and women in the audience, hearing them compliment or criticise the way the woman named Cleopatra was dancing. The boy isn't honest enough to boo from the crowd, tell the Egyptian that he didn't want to hear music at this sort of time. He just wanted to show some children his card tricks but the performance had stolen his able audience, making him admittedly both vexed and impressed.

The boy weaves through the crowd, apologising politely before finding air and finding a seat on the soil, resting in front of one of the big tents and waiting for the dancing to stop. He quietly whispered and practiced his tricks, doing his best to drown out the sound and focus on the way his cards sliced the air and the crisp sound of switching and mischief. His ear drums were aching by the time the music had finished and he could hear the sound of trampling feet, something he never quite enjoyed hearing. It was as if he was about to be crushed by a stampede of vibrations. He hates it and he realises that perhaps he doesn't quite like this woman, let alone tolerate her. Still, he makes an effort to move pass that when he stands back upon his two feet and walks towards her. "How long have you been dancing, miss?"