Fletcher shuffles on his feet, his eyes darting across the room. He counted as a bit of a fidget, constantly readjusting and messing with stuff. He finds himself unintentionally thumbing the loop of his tie before promptly stopping. It was a nightmare. Quickly, he adjusts his tie, pulling it back up to the collar of his unbuttoned, grey shirt.

Living in such a relatively confined space as The Begich Towers, it was unsurprising that Fletcher knew nearly everyone in the room with him; he'd eaten their food, drank in their company, and hell, he'd walked nearly all of their dogs at one point or another. It was a comfortable setting to find yourself in - it was familiar. His eyes cast around the room again. He noted the Mayor and his lady friend at the front; he thought he could see his dad's boss around there somewhere too (he had it on good faith that his parents were in there somewhere, though he couldn't place them). He also sees Helena, as well as Coraline, who appears to be starting to load her plate with some of the food on offer. He remarks to himself that that was probably a good idea.

[i]"That's probably a good idea,"[/i] he thought to himself.

He starts setting off towards the table, laid in all of its splendour with such local delicacies as [i]mouldy fish[/i], [i]some vegetable thing he wouldn't touch in a million years[/i], (hopefully not dry) [i]potatoes[/i] and an appetising looking crumble. Milling through the revellers, he picks up a plate and starts tentatively piling potato onto his plate. He stops a moment, to test a bit of it with the end of his fork. He shrugs, and continues to pile.