<div class="floatleft">(https://st2.depositphotos.com/1177973/8764/i/450/depositphotos_87640648-stock-photo-man-in-hat-making-piano.jpg)</div><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: georgia;"><strong>Name:</strong> Headley (Head)<br/><strong>Location:</strong> By the piano<br/><strong>Time:</strong> A little under way<br/><strong>Wearing:</strong> As usual with a Jacques Brel mask<br/><strong>Tagging:</strong> Alex Carson, Sam Bowman, open<br/><strong>Notes:</strong><br/></span><hr/>Head eased his way past flesh and gossip and invitational looks not meant for him.  He sipped at his mug of Earl Grey tea.  Mm, nibbles on a side table, he couldn't resist.  There was already a dj, dancing outside.  He moved inwards, away from it.<br/><br/>He'd been expecting the piano to be in the library, but instead it was in a kind of public ante-room, right next to the library, and at this stage of the evening it was a little busy.  Indeed, two pretty women were standing right where he'd like to be, by the unopened keyboard of the magnificent Bechstein grand.  One was a blonde in a lacy mask who seemed more interested in the other women in the room than in her companion; the other, a more intense, dark-haired woman with eyes only for her - partner?<br/><br/>'Sorry,' said Head, 'mind if I...?'   He gestured at the piano.  The stool had been shifted a few feet away.  He couldn't wait to open up the instrument and hear how it sounded.