Deimos probably shouldn't have been at the party but really it was also probably the best place for him to be at the time, surrounded by his family so that he hopefully wouldn't be skewered by a wayward rival deity the way his dad had been.
He was still a little foggy on those details. In fact, he was a lot foggy on most things, including how he'd come to be here and where exactly here was.
Eros had brought him along (he was sure he remembered something about being invited to parties... he was NEVER invited to parties) and he was curled up in a quiet corner in the VIP lounge, out of the way of most people, dressed all in black and donning a fairly plain black masquerade mask.
He had a vodka bottle clutched in one hand and although he looked and acted like he'd emptied half the bottle he actually hadn't touched any of it. He was mesmerised by the ceiling, strong enough from Eros' telling of his stories to him that he was unlikely to freak out and have one of those panic attacks from his powers backlashing and attacking himself but not so well that he seemed all there anymore. It was looking less and less likely that he'd ever return to normal.