Dean, Seamus, Susan and probably some NPCs
Dean was actually starting to enjoy himself now he was safely at Wingbeat and in the sound dampened area. The few moments between the doors to the downstairs room and special area had been a bit of an assault on his senses, but thankfully he'd been expecting that. Plus he'd already taken an extra sip of his calming potion in preparation for the evening. Well, that had been partly necessary when he'd had a bit of a panic trying to decide on what to wear resulting in him turning up on Susan's doorstep wearing paint-splattered jeans and a shirt that kept him tugging at his cuffs. She'd managed to talk him into something more appropriate, although it had come down to her shoving him into some clothes and glaring at him to stop his protests in the end. He was mildly uncomfortable in the green shirt he'd ended up in, but at least he felt like he was making the effort. The jeans she'd shoved him into cost more than he'd ever paid for a pair, he was sure, but at least his shoes were comfy and somewhat familiar. Everything belonged to Edgar, excepted for his boxers. It was weird, but it worked, even if he did feel the urge to fiddle with his sleeves and tug at the hem of the shirt every now and then.
He sat back in his seat at the booth they'd managed to commandeer (via some glaring from Susan) and twirled the wand in his cocktail. There wasn't any alcohol in it but it was making his nerves calm slightly. The noise here was completely tolerable and he was sure he'd get up in a bit and dance, but he'd wanted to take it all in first. The one time he'd very briefly tried clubbing before had been a disaster and had just about put him off for life until Charlie had announced the new adjustments. He smiled faintly at the loud, glittery crowd and allowed himself to feel proud that he'd got here and felt good. Plans to crush his own feelings by looking at other people aside.