Billy has absolutely no delusions; he can hardly imagine living up to any of Chris's parties, but he's still going to try to throw the best party he can for Tony
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Having sent everyone home to get themselves ready for the party, Billy spends the hour before sundown putting together last minute details, making sure everything he doesn't want people touching are in his room, and changing into his costume.
He hadn't been kidding when he'd told Kate he was thinking Madonna; the clothes box had happily provided everything he needed for the look, cone bra included. It was absolutely outrageous and made Billy laugh at himself if he gave it more than a few moments of thought, but he waited for everyone to arrive, happy to be the one playing host for once.
"You're my favourite person ever," Kate announced when she saw Billy, cone bra and all. She hadn't doubted for a second that he'd actually do it, but it had to be known that she appreciated the costume. "Like, holy shit, you look amazing," she said, grinning.
Her own costume was something she was proud of, but it was nowhere near as amazing as Billy's. "You need to have karaoke or something and give us a performance," she said. "I mean, that's sort of mandatory when you dress like that, isn't it?"
Billy holds his arms out and bows at Kate's approval, already smiling and pleased that the party is going well. "Thanks, I actually didn't have to put in any effort. And no way am I singing, you don't want to hear that."
"Oh, come on. No stirring rendition of 'Like a Virgin'?" she asked, laughing. "Or, ooh, even better, 'Like a Prayer'. Totally appropriate for any kind of party situation, I think."
She would go around the party and take a poll, if it came to that, just to see how many people would want to hear Billy sing.
Maxxie likes a bit of a scare on Halloween, but really he'd prefer not to spend a whole party with a mask on or face paint or anything really that isn't him. Acting's one thing; a party's another. Most of his costume ideas are cut down anyway when he takes into account the island. It's just bad form to dress up as Superman when you oogle Clark Kent every time he walks by. But there's one celebrity face Maxxie knows for sure hasn't shown up yet. He would have heard about it.
Having spent most of the day getting the place ready for the party, Maxxie catches wind of Billy's costume and feels even more secure in his choice. Thriller is as Halloween as pumpkins and ghosts and a much more comfortable costume. He arrives at the party in full regalia, wig included, but five minutes in and he can't deal. He ducks into the bathroom and emerges fifteen minutes later without a wig and hair carefully set to rights. It may not be the perfect costume anymore, but he's certain he looks better.
"The clothes box and I? Not really on good terms," Marshall said, mockingly cheerful in his ninja turtles costume, one he'd settled on after hours of looking for something else.
He'd wanted to be a noir detective, or even a silent film comedian like Charlie Chaplin, but every single time he'd gone looking for a costume, all he could find were animal costumes that looked like they were more appropriate for five-year-olds.
At least with this costume he got a pair of katana.
Maxxie tries really hard not to laugh outright, but he doesn't really think he can be blamed for it, needing to cover his mouth with his hand, shoulders shaking faintly with silent laughter, his eyes bright with amusement. "No, it's really not," he agrees. "'Cause my favorite was always Michelangelo.
"Seriously, though," Maxxie says, sobering some after a second. "It's not bad."
"I look like I'm twelve, which kind of makes you a pedophile," Marshall said flatly, but even though he looked less than amused, one corner of his lips threatened to twitch into a reluctant smile.
Lecherous though man may be, Scripps feels as though attending a costume in a costume designed to highlight certain aspects of himself (certain sexual aspects) would be a bit of a sin, in itself. Then, he doesn't feel terribly creative in the one he has chosen. He's got a cassock and the collar on, acting all the part of the priest that Dakin so insists that he is.
If nothing else, perhaps it will allow him for several Thornbirds jokes over the course of the evening. And, remorseful as he is to admit, he is rather hoping this earns him a point or two with the man upstairs.
The wig is starting to get a little hot and itchy, but Billy weathers through it; he's fought in spandex and still loves his tattered red cloak, wearing a wig for the sake of Halloween is easy.
He's been making the rounds, delighted at the variety of costumes and enthusiasm from his guests. Seeing Scripps, he gives the back of his wig a good scratch and heads over, tulle skirt flapping away with every step he takes. "Glad you could make it!"
Scripps presses his lips together, terribly bemused as he takes in the boy's costume. He tips his head to the side and clears his throat before gesturing outwards with a single hand. "You look -- unexpected," he confesses.
It's a long fucking walk through the boonies to get from the hut to the Green Arrow Estates, and Cook hesitates in front of the house for half a tick, wondering who's cock this bloke sucked to get a high rise. "Fucking hell," he mutters as he walks in, but it doesn't faze him for long.
The shortage of alcohol does.
He nearly spits out the punch when there's no bite to it, but only just restrains himself. It's not like he's got a costume to ruin. He's a devil dressed in red jeans, red tank and red Doc Martens, a tail stapled onto his backside and face paint carefully applied by Grace. He swings his head back around to actually look at the refreshments table and notices the bottles, usable but separate. He stares at this puzzle for two seconds before opening the first bottle and pouring whatever the fuck it is into the punch bowl. It's Effy's brother's birthday and he's not going to be a complete ass.
That doesn't stop him from asking aloud, "What the fuck kind of party is this?"
There are certain advantages that come with being Odile for the evening. The first is that she can do whatever she likes. The second, is that Grace has already come prepared for the shortage of alcohol.
Of course, that will remain her little secret, at least for now.
"I suppose you prefer the raves, then?" she asks, walking up behind Cook.
Cook glances over his shoulder, hearing Grace's voice, just sees just a shitload of black tulle, low cut, and freaky makeup. He shakes his head, the quick image of her startling.
"I prefer anything with alcohol," he replies. One bottle empty, he grabs another and pours again. "What's the point of a Halloween party without getting fucked up? What's the point of any party that doesn't get you fucked?"
"Conversation, perhaps?" she says, idly picking up a bottle as well. She won't pour this one into the punch like Cook is doing; this one, she'll keep for herself.
Really, she's just playing devil's advocate at the moment, she'd prefer if there were more alcohol at this particular party too.
It was strange sometimes for Harry to celebrate Halloween, knowing what had happened on that day so many years ago. But he had been a baby back then and couldn't remember most of it. The sound of a woman's scream. A flash of green light. But all the other things had faded over the years, unnoticed and unrecognized. Did his parents carve a pumpkin and set it out? Had they told him a spooky story before bed that he did not understand? Had they gone all out inside their little cottage, with streamers and candles and festive charms? Harry didn't know. He had had more good Halloweens than that singular bad one, so it was easy, for once, to set those thoughts aside on a day that meant something and just enjoy himself
( ... )
"Wanna put your broom in my basket?" Kate asked when she reached Harry's side, then immediately pursed her lips and tipped her head to the side. "That's the best unintentional euphemism I think I've ever come up with. But I meant it seriously," she continued, holding out the basket she'd found to go with her Red Riding Hood costume. It had taken about a month of collecting pieces from the box when it decided to be nice to her, but she was sort of in love with the end result, to the point where she wanted to wear it all the time. She'd worn the Princess Valhalla costume all the time back home, wearing this on the island probably wouldn't even by that weird.
"Unless it completes the look," she added with a grin. "It's a good look."
"I think my broom's too big for your basket," he answered, not taking into account how that would sound given the new context of the question Kate had given. Harry shook his head at himself, feeling a faint blush creep onto his face, and hurriedly tried to move on before he really felt uncomfortable.
"I think I'll hold onto it," he said, then moved onto the one surefire way he knew to get out of potentially awkward situations with girls. "You look great."
"Why thank you," Kate answered with a grin, holding out her cape in a bit of a curtsey. "As long as I don't meet the big bad wolf, I'm golden." The way shit on the island went, it wasn't totally impossible that it could happen, but she was hoping they could at least avoid that kind of disaster. Last thing she wanted was to get eaten.
"Billy's costume is awesome, huh?" she asked, trying not to grin too widely. She wanted to get Harry's opinion on it before she admitted to helping him come up with the idea.
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He hadn't been kidding when he'd told Kate he was thinking Madonna; the clothes box had happily provided everything he needed for the look, cone bra included. It was absolutely outrageous and made Billy laugh at himself if he gave it more than a few moments of thought, but he waited for everyone to arrive, happy to be the one playing host for once.
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Her own costume was something she was proud of, but it was nowhere near as amazing as Billy's. "You need to have karaoke or something and give us a performance," she said. "I mean, that's sort of mandatory when you dress like that, isn't it?"
Reply
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She would go around the party and take a poll, if it came to that, just to see how many people would want to hear Billy sing.
Reply
Having spent most of the day getting the place ready for the party, Maxxie catches wind of Billy's costume and feels even more secure in his choice. Thriller is as Halloween as pumpkins and ghosts and a much more comfortable costume. He arrives at the party in full regalia, wig included, but five minutes in and he can't deal. He ducks into the bathroom and emerges fifteen minutes later without a wig and hair carefully set to rights. It may not be the perfect costume anymore, but he's certain he looks better.
Reply
He'd wanted to be a noir detective, or even a silent film comedian like Charlie Chaplin, but every single time he'd gone looking for a costume, all he could find were animal costumes that looked like they were more appropriate for five-year-olds.
At least with this costume he got a pair of katana.
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"Seriously, though," Maxxie says, sobering some after a second. "It's not bad."
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"But you're right, that's not bad at all."
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If nothing else, perhaps it will allow him for several Thornbirds jokes over the course of the evening. And, remorseful as he is to admit, he is rather hoping this earns him a point or two with the man upstairs.
Reply
He's been making the rounds, delighted at the variety of costumes and enthusiasm from his guests. Seeing Scripps, he gives the back of his wig a good scratch and heads over, tulle skirt flapping away with every step he takes. "Glad you could make it!"
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The shortage of alcohol does.
He nearly spits out the punch when there's no bite to it, but only just restrains himself. It's not like he's got a costume to ruin. He's a devil dressed in red jeans, red tank and red Doc Martens, a tail stapled onto his backside and face paint carefully applied by Grace. He swings his head back around to actually look at the refreshments table and notices the bottles, usable but separate. He stares at this puzzle for two seconds before opening the first bottle and pouring whatever the fuck it is into the punch bowl. It's Effy's brother's birthday and he's not going to be a complete ass.
That doesn't stop him from asking aloud, "What the fuck kind of party is this?"
Reply
Of course, that will remain her little secret, at least for now.
"I suppose you prefer the raves, then?" she asks, walking up behind Cook.
Reply
"I prefer anything with alcohol," he replies. One bottle empty, he grabs another and pours again. "What's the point of a Halloween party without getting fucked up? What's the point of any party that doesn't get you fucked?"
Reply
Really, she's just playing devil's advocate at the moment, she'd prefer if there were more alcohol at this particular party too.
Reply
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"Unless it completes the look," she added with a grin. "It's a good look."
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"I think I'll hold onto it," he said, then moved onto the one surefire way he knew to get out of potentially awkward situations with girls. "You look great."
Reply
"Billy's costume is awesome, huh?" she asked, trying not to grin too widely. She wanted to get Harry's opinion on it before she admitted to helping him come up with the idea.
Reply
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