Alastor walks out from inside his room, his ears flat against his head as he fixes his smile. He stumbles a bit, having trouble with something as simple as walking in a straight line.

Eventually, though, he makes it to the view of the foyer, gazing upon the guests from afar. His vision blurs. He quickly goes to grip the railing and squeeze his eyes shut, using his free hand to attempt to massage the splitting headache away.

A deep breath. Inhale… exhale…

He’s fine.

Alastor walks down the stairs, looking at his friends with his usual shit eating grin on his face. Finally, he has perfected his facade… well… until his body decided to collide with the floor, leaving him no choice but to be at the mercy of everyone in the room, most of which he doesn’t even know the name of. A staticky growl is all he can muster before becoming too weak to move.