[b][color=burlywood]Prince of the Texan Sovereignty, [h3]Quentin Houston[/h3][/color][/b] [hider=The Outfit][img]https://media.discordapp.net/attachments/436922581707390997/448253633977516052/binx.png[/img][/hider] [indent]Events such as these were right up Quentin's alley! This was sarcastic, of course. They were not. Trying to pretend that he belonged, Quentin managed to get aaaalllll the way through the niceties and polite...ities? and respectities and politics surrounding a very big event that he was invited to for some reason (???) until he, after over [i]thirty[/i] hours without his signature hat... wore his hat. God, this was a more casual event anyways, nobody would probably even care or notice that he was wearing his cowboy hat. It was white-- it was no flashy colors. No one would care, he reassured himself, as he dressed in a suit his servants-- hired on a month earlier from his friendgroup, who were mockingly formal in how they 'served' him. They also reassured him that no one would mind the hat. Quentin didn't regret wearing the hat, but he did regret trusting his friends. He could see Princes and Princesses and even a few of those ever so blank servants glancing at his hat, as he warmly greeted his hosts. A handshake with them might've been out of place, but he always preferred the straightforward approach and still didn't really get the whole bowing thing. Nonetheless, he managed to get out of that without offending anyone-- he thought-- and even seemed to get a genuinely warm smile out of the so very pink Lea! So he must've been doing okay. But still, everyone was glancing at his hat. He pretended to not notice, of course-- he was very good at noticing things and not commenting on them, because being a know-it-all wasn't often funny and comedic-- but it made him feel quite self-conscious. So the big man, standing as tall or taller than every other member of royalty in the room, made even more prominent with his hat adding another four inches, found himself standing somewhat alone-- how would he even approach royalty?-- as he studied the meat selection at the snack table. Specifically, judging its quality in both preparation and in ingredients. He found some lackluster, and some to be quite impressive. But there was none of his family's premium meats here. The best in the world... none of it served here. Huh! He'd have to change that, Quentin thought to himself as he chewed on his twelfth meatball.[/indent]