The offered drink was more or less what Tyler would have wanted, though a little more booze-forward than he preferred. That could have been the bartender being heavy-handed, or maybe it had been ordered extra strong. Either seemed plausible. It wasn't worth complaining about, though. He wasn't exactly going to refuse to drink it. A stranger had brought him a drink after 20 seconds of conversation and a provocative smile, so the least Tyler could do was accept.

"So what's your name?" Tyler asked, stretching his legs out under the table, and gaze drifting over the dancefloor. Partly because he was sort of curious where Summer had gotten herself to, and mostly because he didn't want to be caught staring at the man's abs, which was probably what would end up happening if he happened to glance that way. Better to remove temptation entirely.

"Fandango."

A sip of Tyler's cocktail went up his nose as he completely failed to keep his composure. The resulting coughing and spluttering fit took a while to clear, even as the alleged Fandango patted him on the back to help things along. What a marvelous impression Tyler was making.

"That's not a name," Tyler choked out, once he was able to speak again, wiping his face with a napkin. "You're not telling me that's your real, legal name."

Fandango didn't say anything, but when Tyler chanced a glance his way, he could see that he was smiling. The other upside of having been resolutely looking away was that at least Tyler hadn't spat his drink all over the man's bare chest. That would probably have been impossible to recover from. As it was, it was difficult to gauge how much damage control the situation required. Chalk that up as reason 14 to disapprove of masquerades; non-verbal cues became a lot harder to read. Even perfectly chiseled abs like Fandango's couldn't show emotion.

"I'm Tyler," he said, after a pause that was slightly too long. After another, much shorter, pause, he remembered himself and offered his hand. Fandango shook it without hesitation. His grip was strong and firm, but as he withdrew, there seemed to be just a slight tremor of uncertainty, and he cleared his throat softly.

"That woman you were -"

"We're not a couple." Tyler tried to hold back the roll of his eyes, covering it up with another sip of his drink. It was pretty good, despite his initial disapproval.

"Good."

That seemed like an odd response, but Tyler didn't particularly fancy speculating on what it meant. Either the man meant something by it or he didn't, and it would become apparent which was which sooner or later. He looked over at Fandango again. His shirtlessness had been distracting enough that Tyler hadn't really taken the time to assess his looks properly, before. A purple and gold mask covered from his hairline to his nose, but that didn't leave nothing to look at. He had nice hair, in addition to a nice body, and the line of his jaw was - well, without seeing the rest of his face, Tyler couldn't exactly say it was appealing, but it was a good start.

A flush rose in his cheeks as he realised Fandango was still talking, and he'd been completely ignoring it. Well, the colour he could blame on the alcohol and the harsh lighting, at least.

"...dragged you here, though?"

"It's her birthday." Tyler had to just hazard a guess at the beginning of the sentence. Fandango didn't seem to think anything was odd about what he'd said, so Tyler went on. "And it's important to her that I be nice at least once a year. I take it you're not here by your own choice either?"

"No. Same boat, from the sounds of things." He didn't elaborate, which was a bit of a shame. His voice made Tyler regret not listening more attentively to begin with.

Tyler made a soft noise of agreement, rather hoping that would prompt Fandango to keep talking. That didn't seem to have any effect, but Fandango was still looking at him. Intently, at that. It was borderline uncomfortable, because usually Tyler had an easy way to assess how he felt about being so blatantly looked at, and only being able to see the person from the mouth down was interfering with that system. Not knowing what else to say, Tyler took another sip of his drink. It was going down a little too easily, given how strong it tasted. He made a mental note to ease up.

"Is it good?" Fandango's voice snapped Tyler out of his reverie again, and he glanced over again in confusion. Fandango nodded his head towards the glass in Tyler's hand, still three-quarters full of the unnaturally coloured alcohol.

"It's fine," Tyler replied, swirling the liquid around the glass, just for something to do with his hands.

"Only fine?"

"I have high standards, I suppose." It wasn't the most polite thing to say, but either Fandango wasn't offended, or he was concealing the offense beneath the hopelessly tacky mask. His comment had definitely earned a smirk, and that was probably a good sign.

"I have no problem with high standards."

The words themselves weren't particularly provocative - in fact, it was a nice sentiment - but if a voice could leer, Fandango's was. Tyler permitted himself a small smile as he shifted his position in his chair. He picked up his drink again, then put it back down. No, he'd told himself to go easy.

"Then you'll love me." As the words fell from his lips, his smile turned into an outright grin. He didn't dare look over to see if his words were having the desired effect. If he was caught looking, that might throw the whole thing off-balance again.

"Confidence is even sexier."

Tyler suppressed the laugh. There was no question, none at all; that was meant to be a come-on. The only way it could have been more blatant is if he'd outright suggested they sneak off to the cloakroom for a quick fuck between courses. Worse still, Tyler was starting to suspect that on the balance of it, he didn't mind so much. He still couldn't possibly let it be seen that he was melting to Fandango's charm all that easily.

"Direct. But you don't think you're up to my standards, do you?"

That might have been the end of it, because Tyler knew his voice carried a finality and a challenge that would send most people on their way, and he could see Fandango shift out of the corner of his eye. A third voice entered the conversation, however, interrupting whatever Fandango might have said or done next. That was not part of the plan.

"Tyler, can - oh, hello, Tyler's friend!"

The tiny brunette with a squeak attached to her voice hesitated as she leaned over the table, her eyes blatantly skating over Fandango's shirtless figure. It was hard to blame her for that, but there was such a thing as subtlety. Granted, a man who went to formal events shirtless probably wasn't inclined to care about other people's subtlety, but some people did.

"Hello to you, Tyler's other friend," Fandango replied, his voice warm and clearly filled with amusement.

"I don't mean to interrupt, I just…" Her voice faltered into a giggle, and Tyler was fairly sure she was blushing. Not that he could see her face properly, but he could practically hear the blush in her voice. "I just, um… can you pass me my purse?"

She leaned forward again to point, and it really wouldn't have killed her to walk around the table and get it herself, but Tyler also got the distinct impression that it wasn't what she had originally been planning to say at all. Fandango didn't seem to have noticed or be bothered, though. He was still smiling widely, and if Tyler wasn't very much mistaken, his eyes had flickered down to her neckline when she leaned forward.

Well, didn't that put Tyler in his place? He took a needlessly large gulp of his cocktail. The alcohol stung his throat, and he made a face. Perhaps it wasn't a heavy pour after all; it might just be badly mixed.

Fandango laughed, a deep, pleasant sound, but Tyler was no longer prepared to care. Wasn't it just his luck that the closest thing to interesting at the party would turn out to have no actual taste? Perhaps Tyler shouldn't have laughed so hard at his name. Perhaps he shouldn't have given the time of day to an outrageous flirt who was improperly dressed.

He could feel the grand sulk setting in, and Summer's birthday wasn't enough to stop him from letting it.

By the time he realised that Fandango was still sitting next to him, and still trying to talk to him, his glass was empty. Tyler supposed it must have been pretty good after all, though he also suspected that he shouldn't try standing up too quickly. That was a problem, because dramatically swooping away from someone who wasn't even willing to finish trying to flirt with him before turning his attention to someone else rather relied on being able to get to his feet without stumbling. He could probably still manage it, but he didn't want to bank his reputation on 'probably'.

Instead, he glanced over at Fandango. There was no problem meeting his eye without distraction now.

"She's gone now." Tyler's voice was icy, and he took some pleasure in noticing that.

"You're still here."