In the doorway stood a tall man with a narrow nose dressed flamboyantly in maroon robes with a disturbingly bright yellow sash and pale blue scarf in complex knots around his waist and neck respectively. On top of his head was a shock of white hair that flowed down into a silver beard that covered half his chest. If the first man was out of place in the common room, this new man was out of place, period.
“Good evening!” He exclaimed and crossed the room with a long and animated gait, where every part of him appeared to move in a different direction, yet he still managed to move forward. “My, my Argent, that’s quite the amazing disguise. Pure brilliance, I tell you! Disguising your self as a dishrag, why didn’t I think of that? How’d you manage it?”
“I thought, Kander, I told you to be inconspicuous. In fact, I seem to remember being very explicit about that point.” Argent narrowed his eyes under the brim of his cap. His arms were folded across the silvery vest under his cloak.
“Well not all of use are as good as you, but do not worry my dear linen, none shall remember my presence or passing.” Kander had, in direct opposition to his earlier wild movements, delicately settled himself at the table Argent had chosen. He stared unblinkingly straight ahead except for occasional exaggerated glances at the rag lying on the table behind him.
“Kander-“
“AH!” The uniquely dressed individual shot up from his stained and worn chair. “I apologize profusely my good sir! I did not notice you sitting there.”
“That much is obvious, you old fool,” Argent’s voice went from it’s usual caustic to a definitively poisonous tone. “I am not a dishrag.”
Kander blinked, looked from Argent to the rag and back again. He then clapped his hands together and exclaimed with joy, “Then it wasn’t a waste of effort,” and draped himself over an aghast Argent.