The last one to arrive, as is usually the case in situations like this - not through design, per say, more just people not telling him about anything - Whitey slipped in through the main door and down the long staircase that led into the large hall where everyone else was gathered. He was trying to be as quiet as possible, so he could just pretend he'd always been here and nobody had noticed, but unfortunately luck wasn't with him. Tripping over a shoe lace that had somehow worked itself loose, Whitey let out a surprised yelp as he fell head-first down the last few steps, ending in a crumpled heap on the floor. He jumped quickly back onto his feet; it was hardly the first time he'd fallen down some stairs and wasn't the worst by a long way. Looking sheepishly around the rest of the room, he straightened out his black shirt and brushed some invisible dirt from his trousers, bending down to pick up the trilby hat he'd been wearing, before giving a quick wave and a smile to everyone there, even those he didn't know.