CHLOE!
Seymour was an entertainer at heart, after all! And after the many years of teaching himself the banjo, it was rewarding to walk onto that stage and sing the very best ballad he could ever have written forty-eight hours prior to the event for one of his very dearest friends!
Even if he hadn't really known about the wedding until about a week and a half ago.
Trivialities, trivialities.
He had however, been feeling extremely thirsty and was on his way to find a punch bowl, or perhaps procure himself some firewhiskey (Seymour wanted to steer away from any dairy, in the event that someone fawned over his vocals so much and asked for an encore--which he would, naturally, delightedly give!). But, in all his years of carting around his banjo, Seymour had never really bothered to account for its size. He did, after all, play an instrument. And playing an instrument was a cause for admiration, was it not! After all, how many people could claim they they were completely proficient at banjo playing? Well, he could! Clearly, people could see that, when he was walking by with such a large thing draped across his shoulder; there was no need for him to take into consideration the girth or protruding ends of his delicate musical instrument!
But Seymour did occasionally feel bad when he jostled someone with it, and he felt even worse when there was a drink in the hand that he had jostled.
"Sorry, miss!"
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