In a humoring mood (still pleased at having broken yet another of the Capitol's determined handlers) Wesker's omnipresent sunglasses were missing as he lingered near the band. A web of matte black to match his suit swept over the right side of his face, keyholes of pale flesh visible between the strands, leaving his red and gold on full display, flashing from behind a half-mooned affair.

Albert Wesker had nothing to hide.

Though the glasses were tucked away, a familiar weight in the breast pocket of his coat. Ready for when the noticeable discomfort that meeting his gaze brought the other guests stopped being amusing.