This wasn't exactly Sitwell's scene. Downstairs, he felt he had missed the dress code and almost panicked and left before a very nice lady with very big hands bought him a drink and sent him anxiously escaping upstairs instead, texting Colleen in a tone that he was sure seemed totally cool and welcoming to this completely normal kind of party so she should hurry up. He still wasn't sure how he could have better prepared for neon paint night, but he felt slightly less out of place up here in his tucked in shirt and cuffed jeans. Slightly. Now Sitwell didn't know how he was going to get out of there, though, because he was sure that was Tony Stark shouting by the door as Sitwell took to the stairs. Maybe he could scale the side. Hey-- perfect, there was the birthday girl.
"Miss Wicked!" he called as he followed her to the ledge, then hesitated a few steps away to apologize, "I didn't mean to interrupt. I just, happy birthday." He grinned and raised a glass -- or, bottle-- to her and the success of another year and the one to follow.