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Draco & Pansy & Theo and open.
You know...?

Having instantly recognised this voice— or at the very least, gotten a pretty good idea as to who this person may have been-- Pansy’s chin took on a sardonic side-ways tilt, and her mouth stubbornly pinched at either corner, suppressing the sarcastic counter that’d have no doubt come to mind immediately. As if under sufferance, the Slytherin girl took her merry time in turning around to face Theodore; and once she had, as if offended by his words, she lent him a cold look and a good minute and a half of unwelcoming silence. “Being that the single prerequisite of being here is that one is decorated with a mask, Theodore, I would say that the purpose of wearing this--“ she gestured self-righteous toward her mask with a pointed finger-- “is hardly defeated. Oh, pardon, I hardly mean to cause a fuss in calling your error, I suppose I could try changing the way I laugh to please you. I’ll mimic you, shall I?— Yes, then no one will know it’s me. Hold on a tick.”

Pansy cleared her throat behind one raised fist-- and then, exuberantly, she went about lowering her voice as much as she could and letting out a very ridiculous, very wry, “Huh-huh-huh-har-har-har,” as if to sharply mock Theodore’s own laughter. It could have been a very patronizing moment between either Slytherin, if Pansy’s awful, monotonous laugh had sounded anything like Theodore’s. Purposefully, it hadn’t.

“Better, then?” She paused as if to gage his gage his expression, seeming rather pleased with her efforts-- before letting out a far more genuine, far more high-pitched chuckle at it all. Shaking her head, and now stepping away from that subject to be able to take note of the boy’s clothing, Pansy glanced at the various garments and eventually tipped her chin downward in a half-approving nod. “Well, you don't look awful, Theodore-- dark palettes always go down well, I see. Wasn’t Daphne supposed to arrive with you?”