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(442) OOC: Grumpy Frosty pants is grumpy. What his coat looks like, and his hat.
In all honesty, Robert wished he didn't have to be there.
All he saw were faces of strangers; only a few them having the scent of Cercatori, but he found no comfort in being surrounded by them, being just as unknown to him as the knights. The boy did not like the way he was suddenly thrust into somebody else's land, pushed into a room full of canine that did not know him, and expected to socialize. He was about as conversational as a dead fish, and he recognized and respected that part of him. So why couldn't everyone else? But, there was not anything he could do change the fact he was now presented and had to bear with it.
He decided to wear a simple waistcoat instead of his usual sweater vest, since he noticed that the crisp air was becoming slightly warmer as the seasons changed, and it was time for a switch in his wardrobe. Earlier, the day was bright, and he brought out a flat cap that he had been given to him when he was younger, which now had collected dust from lack of use; since spending much of his time inside, there wasn't much use for it. But, he spent a couple of minutes cleaning it, and was now adorning it that evening. His mane was fresh and clean, though most of it was tucked under his cap, as well as the rest of his fur. Just because he dejected the thought of the ball, it did not mean he skipped it as a chance to look formal. (At least, more formal than usual.)
He placed his gifts for the Cavaliers among the various baubles and bits. He inspected some of the items that were placed, and while some were extravagant, he felt like his own offering should be just as appreciated. Books were a wonderful thing—they provide better information than one's mind could. Knowledge was the best power there was, and gifting the pack with it was one of the best presents on could give. Besides, he did not want to give up the books, but only managed to part ways with them, and hoped that they'd like it.
He hung back, away from the crowd and even the follow loners of the party, and sat in a chair that he dragged out from somewhere in the building and placed himself in a corner. His nose was stuck in a spare book he brought along for himself, and he occasional took a sip of his water. Now, all he had to do was to concentrate on the music, his reading, and to drown out the chattering...
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