Reception Hall

Jackson stood against the wall. This had been a bad idea. It was loud, and confusing, and he didn't know where anything was. All he could think to do was stand here and listen to people and hope someone recognized him and would come talk to to him. Not that he had much to say.
He pushed his mask up and rubbed his eyes. It itched, but apparently this was a maskerade and he was supposed to wear it.

Timothy wandered around, observing people. All in their finest clothes, some looking uncomfortable, shoulders hunched, fidgety, asymmetrical and off-balance... Quite a few ladies were off-balance in their high-heels. Timothy didn't understand some of the towering shoes. Yes, a few inches looked good, but when a woman needs help walking, or simply takes off her shoes partway through the evening (some would, the shoes didn't appear to be made to be worn) it wasn't attractive. Women tottering around, liable to fall at any moment, carrying their smelly shoes in a few hours, or having their men carry the shoes.

The conversations quieted for a minute and Jackson heard music. The concert started? How long had it been going on? He began making his way through the crowd toward the music, his cane sliding over the smooth floor, excusing himself to anyone he bumped into. Jeez there were a lot of people here. Didn't they want to listen to the music? Wasn't that what this was all about?