Erato

[it's that kind of night. wine, atmosphere, privacy... but company. that was the sticking point. and he's resorted to looking, or at least a version of it, strolling through the halls with the stems of two wine glasses crossed between his fingers, an airing bottle of red in the other.]

[come out, come out, wherever you are.]

((OOC: Cross Marian, *moderately* effected by the aphros. your character can be as effected as you like, or not! he may get more effected as time goes on, depending on need.))

[Key in slot, door open, over the threshold and isn't that quaint, abruptly the world simply stops making sense so much worse than usual, Raivis has to pause for several long moments to blink at the utter lack of a ceiling where really, the building had implied to him very clearly there should have been one.

He feels... betrayed by reality and the loss stings fiercely, needle pricks of moisture in the corners of his eyes. It isn't fair. It just... Is not fair how even the most basic of comforts- the laws of physics- has been stripped away and not a single one, not a single damn moral less member of the World Conference is there for him to ogle accusingly. The question of accuracy concerning the address briefly drifts alongside Disbelief but Raivis shakes it away in favor of diligence, superior work ethic and the absolute conviction Eduard has not, could not have possibly, gotten it wrong.

The journey from doorway to the nearest basket topped table is a cautious one. He tiptoes delicately around pillows- the Italian's idea?- to peer in, tensed for a surprise attack or a colorful string of Latvian blasphemes. But life is being funny again and all he finds is a rather lovely bowl of fruit. Normal, ripe, enticingly vibrant fruit.

He shouldn't eat it. He knows he should not eat any of it, but he's still tired from jet lag and he's hungry and god, it looks so good and oh god, he really is hungry.

Fifteen minutes and numerous figs, cherries, apricots later, a Mister Raivis Galante is humming cheerfully to himself while he lounges on some pillows, uniform partially open at the neck, a stem twirling between his lips.] "Everyone is so late..."

((ooc: Salutations and apologies for the length- It sort of... ran rampant...Dudes preferably, for a challenge.))