a. mingling [While Hob isn't participating in the paper dove massacre himself (being a Goblin and naturally adept at this sort of thing, he feels it would be unfair if he, the groom, took part) he is more than happy to explain what the hell is going on to anyone who asks. He stands off to the side and watches proceedings with a keen eye, winners' sash draped over his arm and crown in hand.]
b. reception [Parties are a very different kind of battlefield than the ones Hob is used to. He finds himself a bit at sea after all the pleasantries have been made and the congratulations have been graciously accepted. Which is why, while Rue makes their rounds, Hob can be found at a table on his own. His eyes are tracking their every movement, large and shining with adoration. He may be crying a little bit. Look, he's a big guy. He has big emotions. Absently, still thoroughly engrossed in said big emotions, Hob picks up one of the miniature champagne bottles strewn about the table and pops it in his fangy mouth.
Yes, the whole bottle. Glass and all. He doesn't seem to mind, or even notice, crunching away like it's the most normal thing in the world.]
c. wildcard [or anything else! ask him to dance, bump into him at the punch bowl, trip over his big furry foot, whatever your heart wants!]
K.P. Hob
[While Hob isn't participating in the paper dove massacre himself (being a Goblin and naturally adept at this sort of thing, he feels it would be unfair if he, the groom, took part) he is more than happy to explain what the hell is going on to anyone who asks. He stands off to the side and watches proceedings with a keen eye, winners' sash draped over his arm and crown in hand.]
b. reception
[Parties are a very different kind of battlefield than the ones Hob is used to. He finds himself a bit at sea after all the pleasantries have been made and the congratulations have been graciously accepted. Which is why, while Rue makes their rounds, Hob can be found at a table on his own. His eyes are tracking their every movement, large and shining with adoration. He may be crying a little bit. Look, he's a big guy. He has big emotions. Absently, still thoroughly engrossed in said big emotions, Hob picks up one of the miniature champagne bottles strewn about the table and pops it in his fangy mouth.
Yes, the whole bottle. Glass and all. He doesn't seem to mind, or even notice, crunching away like it's the most normal thing in the world.]
c. wildcard
[or anything else! ask him to dance, bump into him at the punch bowl, trip over his big furry foot, whatever your heart wants!]