The last performer had left the stage, Belize had come out for a few parting words, and the first island drag show was officially over
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Prior had missed the last few performances, as he and Roger had... taken a bit of a detour, but he managed to get back to the party with makeup reapplied and dress straightened. Belize would have killed him if he the party.
He picked up a martini glass filled with fruit punch and watched the costume diamonds around his wrist catch the light.
She was pretty sure she'd gotten the swagger down just right, and the cucumber down her pants was really helpful with that. If this had been performance art she probably would have taken it out and taken a bite, but hey, she didn't want to scare anyone.
Damn, she suddenly really missed James. He totally would have appreciated her performance and probably played along and let her take him home and play the boy.
She made her way through the crowd with gusto. She felt different dressed like this. Not that she was ever hurting for confidence, but she felt like she could drag a girl off by her hair to her cave or something.
Adam stood back, drink in hand, and watched her swagger through the crowd. The fact remained that he'd been a complete wanker to Angela, but it would be nice to get lost in someone for a while.
Even if the drag thing was a little unsettling. Adam got a flash of Fi in a white shirt and a black tie and he shook his head to clear it, taking a swallow of his drink, too quick, and felt his head spin.
Maureen recognized the man from the Mardi Gras party, and she sauntered over to him, sliding a hand onto his shoulder. "Hiya, Liam." Then she pulled down her sunglasses and peeked at him over top of them, just in case he hadn't recognized her. "Enjoy the show?"
Adam had recognised her, and he smiled when she pulled her glasses down, maybe looking a little nervous around blue eyes, and maybe only part of that was LIam.
"Not sure I've seen anything like that since I was at Ocford," he teased, taking another sip of his drink. "Pretty incredible, if you ask me."
Chase's fingers were twitching to take the wig off, but he kept everything on because he kept catching the glances out of the corner of his eye from the people who had put him there. So he was sitting in the corner with his legs crossed completely and trying to not break the glass just by holding it.
Sally walked cautiously towards Rob, trying not to giggle at his obvious discomfort. She held her drink close to her as she stopped, standing by his chair.
She leaned down a bit before speaking. "Hello, Miss. I don't think we've met?" She joked with a wide smile on her face and holding out her hand to shake.
Chase looked up and groaned as he let his head fall back. "I did this under pain of torture, death, and my clothes being burnt," he protested, sipping at his drink. "Seriously, I'm not a weird fetishist." Even if he had attended their parties.
Sally laughed, sitting in the chair next to him. "I believe you, don't worry. You did nicely, I'd say." She said, bumping him with her elbow. "You look nice in heels." She teased, her tongue between her teeth.
She studied his costume. "What are you exactly? A slutty nurse?"
Karen's still exhausted. She's sitting in a chair with a glass of juice, her feet in her boots kicking, her boa wrapped around her neck. Her mustache is badly smudged on one side, and her top hat's on at an angle. She yawns massively and hides her face in her hands.
So this is his life now. Patching up skinned knees and chasing around after a five-year-old in drag. Sometimes Rollie just doesn't know how to feel about that.
"You," he says, crouching next to her, "should have been in bed an hour ago. Whose idea was it to let you do this, again?"
"Hmmmm?" Karen looks at Rollie, so tired that her eyes are slightly uneven, and then, without anything else at all, she reaches for him with both hands, yawning hugely again.
"Not mine, that's for sure," says Rollie, hauling her into his arms and then standing up again. Thank god he's in good shape; children are heavy, especially when they're on the brink of being dead weight. "Anyone you need to say goodbye to?"
Mostly because he didn't care to ruin the impressions of a six year-old and her pony, for starters. Nor did he want any more laughter. But at least his arse looked good in these hotpants.
House, who was waiting for Jack to emerge from backstage, couldn't help but make a bit of a jab at the Doctor as he passed by. "Well," he said conversationally, "this whole time I've been thinking someone needs to make a man out of you, but maybe we should have tried making you a woman?"
"Been there, done that, got the t-shirt, doctor," the Doctor said, in a slow sultry voice, brows raised. "Weren't you there? I seem to remember your cheerful demeanour."
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He picked up a martini glass filled with fruit punch and watched the costume diamonds around his wrist catch the light.
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She was pretty sure she'd gotten the swagger down just right, and the cucumber down her pants was really helpful with that. If this had been performance art she probably would have taken it out and taken a bite, but hey, she didn't want to scare anyone.
Damn, she suddenly really missed James. He totally would have appreciated her performance and probably played along and let her take him home and play the boy.
She made her way through the crowd with gusto. She felt different dressed like this. Not that she was ever hurting for confidence, but she felt like she could drag a girl off by her hair to her cave or something.
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Even if the drag thing was a little unsettling.
Adam got a flash of Fi in a white shirt and a black tie and he shook his head to clear it, taking a swallow of his drink, too quick, and felt his head spin.
It was almost pleasant.
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"Not sure I've seen anything like that since I was at Ocford," he teased, taking another sip of his drink. "Pretty incredible, if you ask me."
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She leaned down a bit before speaking. "Hello, Miss. I don't think we've met?" She joked with a wide smile on her face and holding out her hand to shake.
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She studied his costume. "What are you exactly? A slutty nurse?"
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It's been fun though.
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"You," he says, crouching next to her, "should have been in bed an hour ago. Whose idea was it to let you do this, again?"
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Mostly because he didn't care to ruin the impressions of a six year-old and her pony, for starters. Nor did he want any more laughter. But at least his arse looked good in these hotpants.
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"Well I hope you weren't expecting me to fuck you this time because I seem to remember you being a lot prettier."
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