He strolls around rather aimlessly, having grown a bit overwhelmed by the ballroom, and by the inside of the mansion in general. He appreciates this evening very much—it’s been a while since the last time Anthony’s got to come to a party like this, meet a handful of friends and enjoy himself properly. He thinks back to the day he received the invitation and how quickly he made the decision to attend. Once upon a time, Tony would’ve tossed the envelope without a single thought, all in favour of another late night spent at the theater, frustrated over some song he thought to be not perfect enough.

Now he feels grateful. The faint sound of music, the smell of the flowers, the soft breeze—it all makes Anthony feel so alive. 

The smile on his face grows as he spots another friend—he’s so glad to have run into so many of them tonight. “Ruth, hello,” he greets her. It feels odd to see her outside the theater, since that is usually where they meet one another. That itself makes Anthony realize how very little he actually knows about her and that’s something he desperately desires to change. “I'm so glad you’re here! How are you finding the whole thing? Quite...unusual, isn’t it.”

Exploring came easy to him. Salvador was a natural weasel, so to speak, weaving in and through corridors and rooms with ease. The manor was certainly grand, exceeding many of Salvador’s inner expectations. In truth, he almost didn’t come. He mostly had his proclivity for partying to blame for his sudden attendance. What you need to know about Salvador Ruiz was that he didn’t like to be alone. A man with many vices, loneliness very easily took the top spot. And it’s not a kind of loneliness that so often come with the craving for another. No, he did not think of love or romance, nor did he wonder about companionship within any capacity. He just doesn’t enjoy the quiet. The creaking walls of his empty home, bringing to light the voices that vigorously cling to that same quiet. 

When they bump into each other, it seems that Zoya is on her way to the ballroom while Jacob tries to desperately escape it. The music is lovely but there’s too many people—people he doesn’t even know or recognize —and it makes him feel uncomfortable, overwhelmed. Besides, a ballroom’s for dancing, something Jacob doesn’t really do. But seeing Zoya makes him stop in his tracks because finally, there’s someone he knows. 

“Oh, hello,” he greets Zoya and gives her a polite smile, something to cover up his uneasiness about being in this place. Jacob wonders if she’s surprised to see him here. He would be—this isn’t the sort of thing that people like him get invited to. The thought keeps coming back to haunt him every now and again, he can’t quite let it go. Either way, he’s here, possibly to everyone’s surprise, including his own. It’s like he made the decision to attend unconsciously and only realized it once he’d arrived. “Enjoying yourself?”

With every step Jacob takes he questions his presence in this place. The costume has felt uncomfortable ever since he put it on and the amount of people around him has made the whole evening seem horribly overwhelming. For this very reason he’s taken to, for the lack of a better word, hiding. Luckily for Jacob, there are plenty of rooms he can seek refuge in; empty parlors and bedrooms which can shield him from the life of the party he’s so desperately trying to avoid. If it were easy, he’d just leave but the carriages in which all the guests arrived in are nowhere to be found now. Every now and again it causes a wave of anxiety to wash over him, which he then promptly ignores as to not make himself feel any worse than he already does.

The door to the sitting room opens, which makes him rise from his seat so he can leave and find another room to be on his own in. Except it’s Eleanore who enters and suddenly Jacob finds it hard to even move. “Oh. Hello,” he says and apart from a greeting, he’s at a loss of words. After not seeing one another for so long and then being at the seance together, Ellie witnessing everything that’s happened to him, Jacob isn’t entirely sure what he’s supposed to say. An apology is probably in order but he doesn’t know how to deliver it without explaining himself properly. I’m sorry I’ve been distant but I don’t want to hurt you. Something tells him he did anyway. “I feel rather out of place, if I’m being honest.”

Something’s off—that much is clear and it takes Arthur about two minutes of being in the presence of both of his friends to realize it. There’s some awkwardness in the air, something odd about the way that they are more than happy to talk to him but when it comes to talking to each other, there’s reluctance there; short remarks to fill the silence and appear polite rather than an actual conversation the way people as close as they are would have. 

Arthur gives them time at first, hoping that whatever the issue is it will go away on its own in the midst of the dressing up and the drinking. He’s already taken to the latter quite vigorously—the bottle of wine on the vanity in his bedroom is proving to be a good friend to him. But then time goes on and on and nothing’s shifting, the mood’s the same and Arthur’s had enough of it. “Alright,” he says, loud enough for Captain to come running towards Arthur thinking it was a command meant for him; he leans forward to give the dog a couple scratches but he doesn’t let himself get too distracted from the matter at hand. “What the hell is up with you two? Did I miss something? Is this some sort of acting exercise I was not made aware of? Frankly, you’re both being very annoying right now, this was supposed to be fun.” Perhaps he’s being a little bit too blunt but he figures it's necessary. “Explain yourselves right now.”

“Alright, let’s see, what have we got,” Arthur starts off as he looks around the room, taking in all the guests and their costumes. “Drink every time you see a character from Greek myth,” which he ought to do right now as his eyes fall on a very handsome Apollo; he doesn’t though, not yet, since they're still setting up the rules, “...Arthurian legends, Shakespeare, obviously. Every time someone is wearing a feathery headpiece...or something that looks like a bedsheet,” there is one in his line of sight right now, a very ugly bedsheet if he says so himself. Arthur takes a sip of his wine, his first steps into the game and turns to Dorothy. “What else do we add tot he list? I’m all ears.”