The auburn-haired Natio representative took a cigar and lit it. By the time he looked up to say thanks, the other man had already drifted back over to some other corner of the room. He wondered if his sense of time was off, or if everyone else in the room was mainlining amphetamines. It had been a while since he had been to anything resembling a party, and the last one didn't have any uppers.
He looked around. Not having met any of the people in attendance before was something that caught him off-guard. Even dossiers on the hosts would have been useful, but the Commission had bigger things to deal with than getting him a who's who on the inhabitants of Kinkaku-ji. Eventually he settled on finding a Chrysanthemum who looked officer-like, and picked out one who was shouting something about ghosts at another Sister. At least if the conversation wouldn't be terribly enlightening on who the attendees were and what exactly they were attending -- reading the RSVP was something he didn't actually put too much effort in except for the parts that said "food", "spirits", "ladies", and "unlawful" -- he figured it could be entertaining, which led to him wandering over, refilled drink in hand.
He bowed his head briefly as he approached them. "Good evening, Sisters," he said with a smile, outstretching a hand. "Harold Kane, Natio Octavarium."
