Simon had always liked the concept of the masquerade ball, and within his experience, he usually quite enjoyed the practical application of the masquerade ball as well. Mystery, intoxication, and the thrill of anonymity.
Or, well, the thrill of the concept of anonymity. The only masquerade balls which Simon had ever been to in the past had been at his families old estate, and he had known absolutely everyone, mask or no mask.
This, however, was quite a different experience. Men and women gliding, staggering, weaving and dancing through the hall, each one only ever a glimpse of a person. The line of a jawbone left visible, the twinkle of soft blue eyes, just enough that Simon could almost fill in the rest for himself. He'd been wandering through the hall alone for a good fifteen minutes, one hand carry a glass of untouched punch like a prop, an excuse to wander alone without seeming voyeuristic.
He caught sight of some feature which was half familiar on the face of someone across the hall, and lifted himself onto his tiptoes to get a better look. After a moments consideration, Simon decided that it was definitely possible that was who he thought it might be, and like a moth to a particularly familiar flame? He started moving through the crowd towards John, to get a closer look.