To say that Quentin was displeased to be at this party would have been an accurate assessment of his current mood. While he had nothing against Constance Harlowe parties were not his cup of tea, even though he was often forced to attend them. In this case, it was because the guest list was spectacularly small and his lack of attendance would have been quite obviously noted. While he was many things, rude was not one of them so to avoid hurting the older woman's feelings here he was.

The big man was sitting idly near the end of the table absently sipping on a glass of wine. He was new to the town and barely knew anyone at the party. Though more than a few seemed to recognize him. Not entirely unsurprising he supposed. He was in the paper from time to time and his friend Mathias Quis had a habit of publishing the stories Quentin told him in those penny dreadfuls. 

In short, he had some measure of notoriety he supposed.

But it was not something he flaunted, indeed, he was doing his best to avoid drawing attention to himself. Mostly just sipping his wine, eating his food, and answering questions with polite formality as they made their way through the evening courses. He was quite eager to get back to work, he'd heard all kinds of fascinating things about this town and he was eager to get started.