Kyle stumbles back for a moment as the champagne goes flying, his sociability forcing him to chuckle as he weaves through the madness. This….this is alright. This is fine….this is….intoxicating. It’s been a while since he’s experienced carefree joy like this.
As he weaves through he seems to almost loose sense of public perception; smiling in relief and joy, joining in the merriment. When was the last time he actively took part in a party like this? Away from any hanging guilt or shame. Away from any strings that could be attached. Just true, carefree fun.
Soon though he finds himself curiously looking down the hall, seeing the reflective shimmer of gold- momentarily mistaking it for Bastet. Right. The mission. As his eyes adjust to the figure though, Kyle’s eyes go from recognition to confusion to shock as he mutters
Seeing him in such fancy eye-catching adornments felt wrong. It was right for a pharaoh, sure, but god that’s….a lot of glitter and shine for him….he looks so distressed….
Against his better judgement, Kyle moves back into the maw of the party, hoping that there was just a table sitting out so he could grab a glass of champagne. What’s a better opener at a party than offering a drink as a welcoming gift?
There is one, but it looks like most of the food and drinks have already been taken from it. A few more chat around this one, talking about how excited they are to see their family and tell them, wondering if someone they knew who went missing is coming home, singing about how they can finally talk to a fucking therapist about all of the confidential stuff.
A few lonely glasses of sparkling liquid, pre-poured, sit on the edge of the table for him, right next to a massive cake that says the same "NO MORE FUKAYNA" and has decorations on it making it look like hands reaching to the sky, where in those cupped hands a tiny fondant figure of Edward stands on top of another tiny fondant figure of what must be Fukayna.