Luca had been standing in the shadows near the gates of the famous Toadmere Rookery when, presumably at seven exactly, the gates had swung open. Upon entering, he offered the grim caretaker only a smile alongside his invitation, having neither questions nor coat for the man. Indeed, Luca's garments were different from his usual garb only in that they were made of finer cloth and for once, entirely clean. 

His outfit, such as it was, consisted of a loose and billowy white shirt with large brass buttons remaining undone along the collar. His legs were clad in simple black pants, the ends of which dissapeared into fine leather boots. He had forgone his usual "cloak," a thin red coat worn nearly to a rag, instead sporting a maroon vest with golden trim. A wide belt of leather held the shirt and pants to his waist, as well as a small knife at the small of his back, hidden by the vest. Two simple bands, one gold and one silver, adorned the third finger of his right hand. All of this was of course stolen, which showed in the way that they were all slightly too large, as though made for a taller man. He thought his mask to be comically simple, a piece of black leather over the top half of his face as highwaymen and thieves of stereotype are wont to wear, secured by a black ribbon.

[color=silver][i]At least the boots fit well...[/i][/color] Luca thought as his swaggering strides took him into the ballroom. Standing in the doorway for a moment, he looks around slowly to take in the scene before him. A smile spreads across his lips as he beholds the table, and he saunters up to it casually. Selecting and opening a bottle of wine at random, he proceeds to pour himself a glass.