"You mind the store, Cheeksie - I've got to try and find a restroom."
Ambush Bug's had a mediocre day of sales so far, somewhat discouragingly. Still, he's met some nice folks, and that's always cheering. Leaving Cheeks in charge of the Ambush Bug booth, he wanders in search of a water-closet. A routine quest for some, but not for the Bug.
"Ah, here we are.." In one of the back hallways of the convention center, he's chosen a door quite at random to represent the object of his journey. He yanks open the door and steps into darkness.
Were any passers-by close enough, they might perceive the loud clatter of an upended mop striking the back of a man's skull, or his flailings as he becomes entangled in a spare tablecloth.