Were Roland a young man, he might be enjoying this. Not that he isn't, more or less, the drink is well brewed and all the guests are enjoying themselves too much to try and trap him in talk for long. He's free to wander, to think on how strange it is to be back here. Once he leaves a place, it is usually gone from his life for good.

These decorations are interesting. Roland moves through the nearest crowd to follow a bit of that decoration, squinting at the lantern bobbing along ahead of him. What's written on it looks like a name - not his, but someone's - and he tucks his mug in one elbow, reaching for the lantern to try and get a better look.

Then he's blinking a red glare out of his eyes and realizing that he can't uncurl his fingers. The lantern is attached to his hand, and it is staying that way. Apparently. Roland's alarm fades quickly, because he remembers this place. He has a good taste for the way the magic in Asgard operates. He gives a heavy sigh, turning to try and catch the eye of anyone whose attention was drawn by that light. "Cry your pardon, but have you heard this name tonight? Know where they might be, by chance?"

He's holding the one notable feature on the lantern, the name, out for easy reading. Not sure what's got to be done once he finds whoever this belongs to, but it's his one clue, and it's pretty clear.