Okay, so first things first. He's wearing a tuxedo. Where did it come from. How. Why. So many questions.

Castor glances nervously around the room. There's a lot of people scattered around, no one he knows, everyone looks mildly confused, which is something, he supposes. Has he been abducted? Have they all been abducted? To... a formal dinner party?

:Castor feels he does not belong,: says a deep, declarative, and disembodied voice. Castor startles and turns, but there is no one - what's more, no one seems to be looking at him, so no one's heard this? Is he actually going crazy?

:Of course - he always feels this way,: the voice continues, knowingly. :But the sudden tuxedo does not help matters. He wonders where it came from, and where he is. This place, he thinks, feels like the kind of party pop magicians are always frequenting. It seems he has forgotten all about the dreams.:

"Oh," he blurts, a little release of the slowly-building tension of a voice detailing his personal thoughts. "Right."

:Fortunately, he manages to remember.:

"The fuck is this?" Castor demands, raising his voice a little, enough to be heard by whomever might be close by.