William adjusted his hat - his perfect hat - and only stopped fussing with it when the suit of armour he was using as a mirror (which happened to be dressed as a ballerina this evening) shifted in annoyance and meaningfully rattled its halberd.
"Right, sorry," William apologized, stepping back. He touched the brim of his hat one more time and took a look around. He hadn't tried the pumpkin spice cake yet, but his stomach was beginning to growl and he didn't like to drink on an empty stomach, so maybe that ought to be his next stop.
There was a familiar figure not far away, though, one with a great deal of recognizable tattoos on display. Enough tattoos that William was temporarily distracted from his spice cake mission. "Pete?"