Tricks and Treats, The Dirty Duck's Annual Hallowe'en Party

[Thunderstruck]

Hallowe'en Night
Friday 31st October 1980, 8:30PM
The Dirty Duck Inn

Located in a small, wizarding cul-de-sac in London's East End, the Dirty Duck has long been a favourite with local witches and wizards. Access is through what appears to be a dingy terraced flat in extreme disrepair, or through Apparition to the flat's back garden. The yard opens out to a small but well-kept lawn upon which the Dirty Duck sits, well-cloaked from Muggles, taking up far more space than it ought to given the street of houses in front of it. Despite the extremely rough surroundings, the pub is spacious, with the entire ground floor dedicated to the traditional public house format. Snooker and pool tables share the massive, open-plan (but for the toilets) space, liberally dotted with tables and chairs and with no less than three roaring fires despite the strange lack of chimneys. Comfortable and expansive, it is a pub favourite amongst wizarding kind.

The first floor is a grand, open hall, once used for balls and other grand events. Tonight, however, it has been decked out with black and silver, strewn liberally with fake cobwebs, and the seating area has been transformed into a surprisingly comfortable graveyard. Customers may sit on the headstones, with marble plinths doing the work of ordinary tables. Drinks glasses have been Transfigured into small, hollow skulls, adding another touch of macabre to the occasion. Light refreshments are provided on a table parallel to the bar; mostly Hallowe'en shaped sweets, but breadsticks and dip are also provided. The stage has been commandeered for the music; records, mostly magical but with some famous Muggle hits, are to be played all night. The hall opened its doors at 8PM, and will continue until 5AM. The crowd is dressed in a mixture of everyday clothes, simple costumes, and more elaborate magical costumes that disguise the wearer.

There is a half-price drinks offer on Boddington's bitter and Carling lager, and free mixers for Captain Morgan's rum and Smirnoff vodka. Firewhiskey is also on offer at double measurements for the price of a single.

[Disposable Hero]

Under most normal situations, Thomas would avoid events such as this. But the idea of a good party was just too tempting to pass up. After all, he had not gone out to an actual party in so long it was ridiculous. A Hallowe'en party was not something he was normally interested it, people dressed up as something that they were not. Which made it hard to figure out who were the actual freaks, and who were just in costume. Then again, when people disguised their faces for their costumes, it made figuring out who was behind the mask even more enjoyable. There were parts of Hallowe'en that he found interesting. Just like he particularly enjoyed the graveyard seating area this club had built into the open hall. He perused around, interested in the decoration of the area around him.

Tonight, he had indeed dressed as something he was not. He wore a elegant suit, black suit jacket, tie, slacks, the works. His hair was currently slicked back elegantly, and he was very clean-shaven. It might take any person who actually knew him to look twice at him before they realized who he was. After all, this was certainly not an attire that he wore. He had decided that he was going as a sleezy business man for Hallowe'en, and inwardly chuckled at the costume. So he walked around the graveyard seating area, looking for anyone that he might know. After all, a party was only fun with a companion.

[Thunderstruck]

The bar was covered with spiderwebs, with interestingly large arachnids crawling over it here and there. It was pretty high-level transfiguration, but it seemed to be chasing off some of the customers. Little groups of arachnophobes were commandeering bar-bound guests and trying to cajole or bribe them into buying their drinks for them. One rather alarmed Romeo tried to convince Jez to fetch his Firewhiskey for him; she gave him a crash-course in how to ask the girls dressed as princesses and wenches to be his servant, and to leave the woman dressed as a Warrior Goddess alone or face losing the hand he'd grabbed her with. As she waited at the bar for the slightly harrassed-looking staff to get around to her, she took great interest in a huge spider minding its own business a few inches from her fingers. She recognised it, having been to the zoo and deeply scrutinised this species, as a giant bird-eating spider. It was bigger than her hand, which explained why even those courageous enough to brave the bar had left this section empty. With morbid fascination, she reached out and ran her fingers down its back. The hairs on it were thick and coarse.

In less than five minutes, she had her rum and coke and a giant spider thoughtfully crawling over the metal-decorated bodice, on a long journey to her shoulder. Her long hair was in a thick braid trailing over her left shoulder; no self-respesting Warrior Goddess would have loose hair, it was wildly impractical. The deep brown of the armoured bodice and long flowing skirt - split at the sides, because practicality was important, even if it was just a costume - was a few shades lighter than that of her hair. Knee-high brown boots, which looked authentically ancient, lurked beneath the costume. Her wand was tucked into one.

People who knew Jez vaguely would never have pictured her as the Hallowe'en celebrating type. Those who knew her better, however, were aware that any party was a Good Party, and that when she did something, she did it bloody properly. Besides, there was so much skin on show around her - only her shoulders and arms were bare - that she was disappointed with her gender. Floaty princesses, fairies, and an awful lot of tarts. And all of them would claim that they were feminists the rest of the year. Huh. If they dressed up as an ass-kicking goddess, or a Suffragette, then she'd believe them.

The skirt was sort of bothering her, but at least it covered up her legs and was therefore somewhat dignified, as far as skirts went. Twitching it out of her way, she made for the graveyard, spider perched amiably on her shoulder and tickling her neck. Setting her drink down on a marble plinth, she cupped the spider in her hands and lowered it to the pseudo-table, lest the tickling result in very undignified giggling. Sitting down proved to a bit awkward; one of the slits in the skirt was determined to undo her hard work at covering-up, and was flashing the side of her leg to all and sundry. While she tried to deter it, she saw a businessman walk past. A split-second later, she looked again, her eyes narrowing and elongating the Egyptian-style eyeliner.

"...Taylor?"

[Disposable Hero]

As he walked through the graveyard-like seating area, Thomas took a look around so he could take in all the costumes that people had chosen. Most of them were depressingly stupid and predictable. Women dressed as princesses, faeries, or simply using Hallowe'en as an excuse to wear a slutty outfit and not be outright accused of being a tart. What was even more sad, were the men's costumes. Most of them were wearing outfits that matched their dates, or would attract a woman to them. Men will do some pretty pathetic things in order to get with a woman, he thought with a sigh as he adjusted his tie. He could feel several eyes on him, women who were regarding him with interest. But he was not all that interested in them. He was wearing his costume because it had amused him to do so, not because he wanted to attract some girl who would find the suit interesting, not him. Thomas did not dress like this under normal circumstances. He was far too lazy, and uncarring to take this much care of his looks.

The suit was itchy, his tie felt like it was choking him, and he hated having his hair that slicked back. However, it was the curse of attempting to portray a good Hallowe'en costume. And he needed a beer. So Thomas moved through the grave seats to head towards the bar, which people seemed to be avoiding for reasons unknown to him, but stopped immediately when he heard a familiar voice saying his name.

"...Taylor?"

He would have to run into Jez, as if they did not see each other enough at work. But, she was also a fun person to have a drink with, even if he was slightly hesitant to do so. Look what happened the last time they had decided to have a drink. But he also was not about to keep walking and pretend he had not seen her, or heard her. So he walked a bit towards her to stand in front of the table. "Hello, Jez," he said with an incline of his head. He took in her costume, and found it very fitting. After all, Jez was a warrior, so the fact that she had chosen to come as a Warrior Princess, was very fitting. "Nice look," a smile formed on his face as he regarded her, "Very fitting, I should say."

Was there anything else that he felt the need to say? He really needed a drink, but he would stand here and engage in some small talk for a bit before he ducked away to head towards the bar. "Enjoying the party? And...by the way. . . .we aren't at work. You can call me Thomas you know."

[Thunderstruck]

How come she didn't have a sword? Okay, the armoured corset thing was, aside from being a device created to impair breathing, a clear indication of the ancient barbaric warrior type. But a proper warrior would surely be strewn with weapons; maybe a short sword strapped across her back, or a few daggers around her waist, or possibly a balanced-weight double-headed battleaxe. The costume hadn't come with any weapons to speak of, just arm guards, and without a scabbard or at least a utility belt, she'd have to carry them around all night and she wasn't sure how to transfigure either of those. As she pondered that, another troublesome costume question arose: what part of the outfit said goddess? She just looked like quite a well-dressed ancient warrior. True, if she was going to go to a Hallowe'en party, she'd wear a good costume, but perhaps the costume's label as Warrior Goddess ought not to have been accepted without question. As she reflected on this, watching the spider as it curiously explored the plinth and discovered yet more fake webbing, fixing the more revealing area of the costume and glancing at the mundane outfits around her, she saw first a businessman, and then a Taylor dressed like a businessman. It was actually quite jarring.

"Hello, Jez."

Quite unconsciously, Jez's free hand sank beneath the table to join the other in trying to pull her skirt together.

"Nice look. Very fitting, I should say."

Huh, well, look who's talking, Jez thought defensively. Was he, er... FBI or something?

"Enjoying the party? And...by the way. . . .we aren't at work. You can call me Thomas you know."

Suddenly, irrationally, Jez's world wobbled on its hinges. Why on earth would she call him Thomas? Who the hell was Thomas? While it wasn't long until she realised that Taylor had probably not been born just 'Taylor', like Cher was born just 'Cher' (as far as Jez knew), the Auror having an actual first name still seemed like an alien concept. Huh. Thomas. As far as names went, it lacked a certain je ne sais quoi. Although her first name was Jezebel, however much she tried to claim otherwise, so perhaps she'd better stop that train of thought right there. "You're not Thomas," she explained, very solemnly. "You're Taylor. Accept no substitutes."

She in a strangely cheery mood. Nobody had made her head melt for a whole few days now, and she had booze and music - some of which she occasionally even recognised - and lots of people looked really stupid and were afraid of harmless arachnids. It made her feel unusually jovial, and she gently lifted the bemused spider and peered at it, two eyes to... eight, or eighty, or however many eyes spiders had. "Like him? I think I'm going to call him Bob. Bob the bird-eating spider. Think they'll notice if I take him home?"

[Disposable Hero]

Leave it to Jez to have a ass-kicking costume in the face of all the other women around him who seemed content to wear superficial costumes. It currently made her stand out in the crowd, and it was something that he could appreciate. Even if he did want to get away from her so he could buy himself a drink and continue to walk around. He honestly did not think Jez was any more interested in hanging around him than he was her. After all, they saw one another quite often during most days, and nights, but then again, she was the one that had called him over. Perhaps it was more out of politeness than anything? No, Jez was rarely polite. So he watched her with interest as she seemed to be doing something under the table that he did not want to think about, lest his imagination run away with it. So he focused on her face, making a point to take in the make-up she wore, and not concentrate on anything else that she might, or might not, be doing under the table.

"You're not Thomas, you're Taylor. Accept no substitutes."

A grin formed on his face at her words, according to her he had no first name. That was fine with him, she could choose to call him whatever she desired. "If you say so," he responded with a chuckle. It really did not matter to him what she called him, as long as it was not his middle name. But he doubted that she knew that, so he was safe from that particular name. Thomas looked closely at Jez, and noted that she appeared to be in a rather good mood. Which was odd to see, in itself. So apparently he, or anyone else in her life, had not pissed her off today. Well that was a good thing, let's see if he could keep it that way. Hopefully by leaving her presence and not returning to it unless something happened. He watched as she lifted up the big spider to show it to him and he leaned in a bit closer to get a good look.

"Like him? I think I'm going to call him Bob. Bob the bird-eating spider. Think they'll notice if I take him home?"

"Bob is a lovely name, I'm sure he'll love it," he spoke, the grin never leaving his face. "And I think they would notice. Bob is a bit of special looking spider. Although, I can't imagine them doing a spider inventory at the end of the night, so perhaps you are safe to take him home?" He reached out with curiosity and touched his fingers to the spiders back, feeling the coarse furs. It was quite disturbing to be touching a spider, but he had never been a person to fear something that usually was more afraid of him than he was of it. There were other, more practical, things to be afraid of. "I'm sure you and Bob will be very happy together."