His sister was a little traitor.
Octavius was fairly certain he'd have been left in peace for the evening, perhaps spent reworking the station's budget for the fifteenth time, or perhaps incessantly checking the Muggle postbox for some information he was awaiting, had Nona not opened her enormous mouth to his friends and fed them some rot about how he needed to be dragged out of the house. Lo and behold, that was exactly what happened, as an army of four (well, really, three, as there was one courteous party amidst the torturers) essentially forced him into costume at wand- and trident-point. Nona had actually tried to make him the lion to her lion tamer, but he'd balked enough that one of his spare costumes was procured in its stead.
Once on the absurd train for this ridiculous party, however, he was rather wishing he'd chosen the lion.
Elvis Presley was entirely too Muggle, and people kept stopping and asking him what he was supposed to be, which defeated the point of not socialising with anyone for the entire night. His friends tried nobly to keep him company, but because he was still a somewhat polite person, he understood he was souring the mood for the entire group, and made it a point to wander away at the most opportune moment.
Wander straight to where the alcohol was served, surprisingly or unsurprisingly. Drinking, as it had been previously established numerous times in recent history alone, never ended well for Octavius. For once in his life, however, he felt ready for whatever fresh hell insobriety would bring him, because he was actually prepared for it. Something,
anything, to get his mind out of the vicious cycle it had been running itself through over the course of the week. After knocking back one or three, Octavius was trying to find a solitary spot to wait out the rest of the night, hitching the strap of his guitar so it was slung over his back. He walked right through a trio of ghosts, ignoring their splutters, and side-stepped something that looked like a bloodied torso with one arm creeping its way along the floor. A flash of something in the corner caught his attention, and Octavius turned his head just for a moment, before bumping into something in his path.
He couldn't even fake shock. "Surprise," he said dryly, gesturing outwards as a sarcastic smile touched his lips. Would the night really have gone any other way?
