"And a smiley face here, and a frowny face there, and a  face on the….

…

Stare! No stair. Oh no, wait, that still rhymes!"

Merrily singing, climbing, and occasionally imbuing the building with his artistic essence, he made his way up the dreary staircase, which was feeling a bit more wobbly than he imagined this lovingly.... lived-in building would tolerate.

Turning the bend next to the 6, he saw the stairs leading to the door at the top. Despite the scratches from use and the horrid mustard-yellow color of it, he brushed back his hair, checked his breath for the most onerous of scents, tucked away his favorite brush, and put on his winningest smile.

With a quick twist and push, he frowned slightly.

"Aha! Pull, not pushhhhh."

The wind came rushing in, almost blowing him back, if not for his hold on the door.

With a quick step outside, the wind tunnel faded, but the wind was still inconveniently present as he gingerly pushed his way onto the roof.

Walking up to one of the other fine patrons whose party he was so kindly gracing with his admirable presence, he took in the exquisite view of the city.

From admiring the view, he noticed a faintly green-looking man in his peripheral vision glaring up at him from his hands and knees.

"G...g..get down, you'll be blown away!"

"Why my fine sir, I'm standing perfectly well on this quaint rooftop of yours. I will not impose upon you lovely souls but for the briefest of moments as I make merry with fine company and...drink?"

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

Glaring around the establishment, he noted with dismay the distinct lack of beverages.

With a quick twist, he caught the collar of the man who was unblinkingly staring up at him and oh so gently dragged him next to the door to block him away from that pesky breeze.

A few more faces of the peculiar party also turned to look up at him as it finally registered that he stood out so much because he was standing up. As they occasionally said, when in Lutèce, do as the Lutècians do.

Getting on his hands and knees to truly join the festivities, he began to deftly maneuver across the roof to chat with some of the other revelers and weasel out any beverages that must surely be hidden from view.

To his unfortunate surprise, none were in the mood to chat with new friends as they continued to chant and sing hymns under their breath.

"Oh God, please help me."

"What’s happening, why are they doing this."

"Why even make an effort to be social when I’m greeted by nothing but rantings? One would think this another cult gathering with the lack of chivalry and merriment but even the dullest of cults had a modicum of festivity!

While doing his party rounds, he heard a slight fluttering from behind. A quick glance over his shoulder told him what he was hoping against. He saw masks blowing out of his pocket and over the edge of the roof.

“Damn”