Mikey would never have eaten Patrick. Especially not for the sake of a costume. Patrick was clever and competent and dashing and occasionally got angry and really, actually had quite a lot in common with Adam. Who was also not a candidate for consumption.
"That hat," he clarified, after a moment of ponderation in which Adam pushed him through the door. As to what William was going for overall, though? He was a little confused about that himself. He was sure it had been mentioned, but famous muggles weren't really his area of expertise. "He's the one with the pipe and the hat," he said confidently. If Adam wanted more details he'd have to ask William himself. Mikey didn't remember the name. Names were irrelevant anyway. Unimportant monikers to be discarded at leisure. Him, her, it, what was wrong with nice things like that?
"No booze at all," he muttered, watching as Adam took a large mouthful from the bottle. Was that unfair? Who had drunk last? He wasn't sure. "And no sharing." Obviously something Adam was taking to heart. "Here, here," he demanded impatiently. "I have a greater volume now therefore my alcohol capacity is larger." His fingers brushed tantalisingly against the cool glass but he couldn't quite reach. Damn his newly restricted arm span. Why hadn't he just transfigured himself into a bird?
Ah yes, because that would have been difficult to reverse once he only had claws and a beak. And because birds didn't drink. "I think we should go over there and eat everything before everyone else gets here and stops us," he hissed.