Writing regrets and wishes on a piece of paper to release into the air seemed like a terrible idea; they would merely fall, eventually, onto the ground, allowing anyone to pick up the slip of paper and read it. Regrets could be used against someone, even if a name wasn’t attached to the paper - Timoleon was sure there was an idiot or two here who would sign their name at the bottom - as it was entirely possible to trace someone’s handwriting back to them. And wishes? Wasn’t there a saying that wishes wouldn’t come true if you told someone?

Pursing his lips into a thin line, Leo stared at the blank piece of paper before him before he crumbled it and tucked it into his pocket. Better safe than sorry. He wasn’t going to write anything down on a stupid piece of paper that anyone could find; maybe he'd discretely read some of the ones he found around to see if there was anything useful he could use in the future - the upper class always had many regrets. Leo wasn’t ever above blackmailing someone for his own personal gain.

A small gust of wind whipped around him, tearing a few pieces of paper out of some guests' hands; he reached down toward the one that had fallen at his feet, his fingers moving to unfold the paper without thinking. Would it be a wish or a regret?

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