Benjamin truly needed to learn to either pitch his voice or stop getting overly enthusiastic about relaying information. It was the educator in him. The moment that he discovered something that was previously unknown, he would spark up with the answer. In a situation like this, hushed lips were probably the better protocol. Isolde seemed to be engulfed in the same notions as himself. Yet, when the masked Mr. Spices waved them over, Benjamin froze. He could actually feel his heart take a steely, cold plummet down towards his feet.

“P-probably a little to well?” he got out, adjusting his collar even though it needed no twisting of fixing. What would he do? He’d already proven him to be absolutely filth at maintaining the masquerade-style atmosphere. And here he was getting pulled into the fold of it all. It wasn’t that he’d not spoken to the Masters before, but academia was another topic that wasn’t at all bathed in subterfuge. Isolde’s tap to his shoulder brought him out of thoughts. She stated that they had a perfect way to get to the bottom of this party. Benjamin was interested in finding that answer out, and at the same time he felt his fingers digging into the flats of his palms. Fortunately, he was gloved and wasn’t able to bite at flesh with his nails.

It wasn’t that Isolde had shown a private part of herself earlier, but she did turn on the charm as she made her way to towards Mr. Spices. She was much better at this than he previously thought. Or maybe it was because she moved away from him, and his void of charmless-ness couldn’t suck out all the buoyant energy from her form.

Benjamin swallowed. He could feel the back of his neck getting prickly. Anyone else at this party would kill for the invitation that they had just been given—possibly literally. Of course, they wouldn’t do it in such a setting, too polite for blood and sharp blades that weren’t barbed at the end of tongues. So, he moved forward in measured steps, attempting a flow like Isolde demonstrated. He was quite garbage at it, and probably looked more like a Rubbery Man than an actual human.

He took a seat, taking to one of the more overstuffed blue pillows. Upon sitting, there was much rearranging he had to take to. He crossed his legs at his ankles and pulled his jacket forward to hide the way that his waistcoat and shirt bunched. His fingers then came up and adjusted his mask. Fortunately, he sat close enough that he could make out the master, taking a deep inhale of a hookah. Oh my, it was a rather unfortunate time to mention that he did poorly around smoke. [i]Breathe evenly,[/i] Benjamin thought.

Mister Spices welcomed them to the Masquerade and let the flow of words die right then and there. Was that all? Benjamin looked around, exhaled, and thought it polite that he said something. All his noble etiquette was still buried where it needed to be. “Thank you for having me—us,” he said, correcting himself as he wasn’t the only one here. “This party has been very nice. Very enigmatic. Mixed crowd. Interesting patronage.” Benjamin then smiled. Look, if others could be vague—he could also participate in word salad. 

[@Hekazu]