Henry didn't even notice as John left him to limp across the room and disturb the other boys' fun. He didn't, in fact, notice much of anything until the loud dissonant crash of piano keys snapped him out of his reverie several moments later. John was drunk, and he seemed to be angry at Charlie and he'd kissed Henry, rather sloppily, but without much in the way of provocation. A niggling doubt ate away at him but Henry pushed it aside. Of course John wasn't jealous over something silly like that, but Henry found he didn't quite know drunk John as well as he supposed he knew sober John. Drunk John, for example, seemed to greatly enjoy kissing whereas he was fairly certain sober John had never been kissed prior to this week.
"Perhaps I've created a monster," he said to himself, and began to cross toward the others, taking a detour past the punch bowl where he had another drink. Normally he didn't drink much, not because he disliked the feeling, but because his prominent Irish nose had the tendency to turn red to signal exactly how far gone Henry was. He set the glass down and resumed his trek toward the piano, knowing his nose had to be red by now, for it certainly felt red, or at least how Henry imagined red probably felt.
He arrived in time to hear John's menacing direction for Allaster to get the outfit and once again felt a worm of confusion make its way into Henry's clouded mind. They'd planned all of this earlier, of course, but it had all been in good fun. What had changed?
Having little to do in preparation for Charlie's third task, Henry located the colorful mask he'd stashed in the band of his trousers and slipped it over his eyes. He wasn't about to go out and be recognized in such a state and in such company.