After the dismissal, Gil had spent his time exploring hte gala room, sampling the treats and eavedropping into idle gossip. Truth was he felt quite out of place, and part of him wanted to snatch a glass of wine and a handful of cheese and hide under a table... but that wouldn't do, now would it? When the time to witness the ritual came, Gil accompanied the others. Several flights of stairs weren't much for these long-legged folk maybe, but for Gil? By the end of it, he was a little flushed and taking discrete gulps of air until his legs finally stopped burning. The worst part was that his falsehood had slipped around in the downward climb and was now pressing somewhere rather uncomfortably. As carefully as he could, he shifted around trying to adjust the piece.<br/><br/>Fortunately the elf he was next to - Incala - seemed more intent on the guards than noticing a halfling... At his remark, Gil coughed softly to mask a snigger. "They only rise to attention for the king. Totally understandable, of course." Gil looked up at Incala. What a pretty woman! A small hand was offered up. "I'm Gil, and it's lovely to find a knife of wit among the spoons, miss."