The door opens to the muffled sound of a woman’s voice and the sound of a fussing baby. “No, no, I’ll check—”
Tavi is standing in the doorway, beard neatly trimmed and the light from the Bar glittering off both the plain steel band on his head and his tunic—an article of clothing that is literally cloth-of-gold and covered in gemstones, mostly of the sapphire, ruby, and diamond varieties. He is also, in the arm not holding the door open, carrying the aforementioned fussing infant.
From somewhere behind him comes another muffled comment (’Aleran?’) as he stares at the Bar for a long, silent moment, and then looks down at himself. “. . . What? No, it’s nothing,” he calls over his shoulder absently, then looks back up for another thoughtful pause.
The door slams shut again.
About thirty seconds later it opens. “… working for two, just go to sleep. I’ll get him settled,” Tavi is saying as he shoves the door open with his shoulder. Not in anything fancier than (admittedly high-quality) linen, today, and the steel circlet’s missing too. Baby is definitely with him, though, and basically still. He’s halfway in by the time he realizes this is the Bar, and after a visible moment of hesitation lets the door close.
He makes his way to the Bar. “You’d better not mess up his sleep schedule,” he tells the counter sternly. “If you do, I am not responsible for Kitai’s actions. And can you not make a habit of replacing the nursery, please?”
“… Yes.” He smiles softly. “He’ll be very happy one day to be meeting you, too.”
Milliways, meet Gaius Desiderius Tavarus.