Raylan's ostensibly not working right now; he's off tonight, and he could stay home. But he's just waiting for the other (the third? the dozenth?) shoe to drop, and he's restless when he stays put too long. So he's here, at the lower class end of the costume party, in a nice shirt and trousers, with a plain black mask across his features.

Without the hat, it's almost like he's in costume. (He'd thought of getting glasses and saying he was Clark Kent, but he'd rather an evening not defending a lame joke that a great many Baedal residents won't get anyway.)

He's wandering through, keeping a sharper ear and eye out than his demeanor and the flask at his hip would suggest. But he can be drawn into conversation - after all. It's his night off.