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Charlotte shrugged. "A year ago?" she said. "More, less? Got my hands on a morphing cube, and Fwai and I are stuck in ESAS as a result. Still," she said, looping her arm through Ix's, "I can't complain. I'm mortal, so she and I can spend the rest of our lives together."

"I'm the Aviator, this is Zeb—"

"I'm Adam Young!" Elanor piped up, brandishing the stuffed dog. "I'm the Antichrist!"

"...And this is Elanor," the Aviator said. "My daughter."

"Adam is not Crowley's daughter!" Elanor said, stamping her foot.

"I'm Itae," she said amicably. "These two are Ailienas and Ava." She gestured to the squeegee and eggplant respectively.

"You're not? Oh, you're not!" he said, the reasons she seemed to look a little different finally clicking now that he was looking for them. "When'd that happen?"

On closer examination, he cut quite a distinctive figure. Six and a half feet tall, about as musclebound as it was physically possible to be, and ruddy-faced with a resting lustful smirk - even in a meticulously detailed costume, Nathas was unmistakable.

"Heh, thanks." He offered Tom a hand. "Have we met? An' who're you goin' as?"

"I... have... seen you before somewhere."

The Aviator, dressed as a certain sunglasses-wearing, redheaded demon, stopped not too far away from them, smiling at Gadrik. "Enjoy it while it's easy, mate, he'll be back-talking before you know it."

"I do not backtalk," Elanor said, and stuck her thumb in her mouth. She was dressed in khaki shorts, a jean jacket, and a striped shirt, and held a stuffed dog under one arm.

Zeb—who looked quite odd with his curly blond wig and tan waistcoat—grinned. "I don't know," he said. "I think it gets easier when they get older."

"Yeah, for you, maybe," the Aviator said, elbowing him.

Derik wrangled Gadrik into a comfortable position for both of them. Gaddie faced outward, so he could see, and Derik supported him with one arm under his bum and the other hand restraining his tiny chest. For the moment, the boy was amused by studying the texture of his father's knuckles.

Derik dared to breathe a sigh of relief, for all that he knew the peace wouldn't last long. "It's too late," he replied wryly to Thoth. "He already knows his mother!"

(( Gonna bring in Ave and Ellie, perhaps? That could be fun. {= D ))

...which was pretty fast, leaving Derik with only Gadrik to deal with. Not that that was necessarily an easy feat.

"...Brother, I don't think that saying I believe your son does not need to learn of horrors known to drive men mad counts as excessive caution."

Charlotte's smile widened and she let go of Ix's hand to hug him tightly. "Oh my goodness, I haven't seen you two in forever! I'm not a vampire any more, look!" She twirled on the spot, skirts flaring out around her.

"How can two big, hard men like you both be such wusses?" she demanded. "He's a baby, not a bomb! If you can avoid literally dropping him on his head, he'll be fine—and honestly, I knew at least one kid in Berk who actually was dropped on her head, and she was still smarter than Kana."

"That's not saying much." Derik scowled at the memory of the Sue.

"It's saying plenty. Look. Here." As Gall talked, she had loosened the straps of Gadrik's harness, and now she lifted him free.

Gadrik, who had responded to the wiggle of Thoth's finger by chewing on it and had happily drooled quite a lot in the process, was obliged to let it go. He squawked and kicked his stumpy Gronckle-paw feet in annoyance, but stopped when he found himself thrust into his father's hands. He looked up into Derik's face with expectant wonder. What new entertainment was this?

Derik, taken by surprise, held Gadrik at arm's length and looked between him and Gall. "What are you doing?"

"Getting something to eat and maybe finding a conversation that isn't totally embarrassing." She ducked out of the harness and tossed it over Derik's shoulder. "Also making a point. Bye!" Free of extra weight, she practically skipped off into the crowd.

Derik was left standing like a statue. Gadrik, not terribly pleased to be suspended in midair anymore, started to wriggle and fuss. Reflexively, Derik gathered him against his chest, but the harness bunching up in the crook of his elbow made his hold awkward, and Gaddie squirmed more.

Derik grimaced. "Er. A little help, brother? If you could just—no—Gaddie—!" Gadrik lunged sideways, and Derik compensated. In the midst of his struggle, he tried to indicate with gestures that Thoth should please take the harness off him, quickly, please.

"But then, there was little about the process that was not. I cannot recommend being a Space Marine to anyone."

He paused for a moment, keeping his eyes on Gadrik. "I believe your son may have your looks when he grows." He wiggled his finger slightly, scritinizing the young boy. "...Although I think his curiosity may come from his mother. I by no means trust myself with him, but I will do my best, should it come to that. I've said this all before."

The marine gave a wry smile. "At this point I believe it is traditional to say that I'll teach him what I know. But I don't think that's something anyone would desire."

Then he doubled back. "Nice costume!" he said, talking to the man dressed as Cú.

He wasn't sure if the man heard him. Ah well. It was still a nice costume.

The one who, to a familiar eye, was obviously dressed as Junpei Iori, smiled. "Hey there!" he said. "Thanks- wait, Charlotte?" Apecian blinked, but on closer inspection... well, she looked like Charlotte, anyways. There was something different about her, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. Ah, well. It might just be the costume. "Charlotte! Hi!"

It took a little more thinking to realize who Michael was dressed as, but, once one got past the fact that he was wearing the male version of Gekkoukan's uniform, it didn't take much to realize that he had come as Fuuka Yamagishi. "Good afternoon," he said, as he silently tried to figure out who Charlotte was dressed as and wondered when she'd lost a few inches of height.

Gadrik nommed Thoth's fingertip with a satisfied mutter, only to pull his head back with a frown of intense confusion. (In that moment, it was possible to remark his burgeoning resemblance to his father.) This finger did not taste quite like the other fingers he'd encountered in his young life. It was weird. Weirdness warranted further investigation. He went back for another sample.

Derik let out a slow breath. He wondered fleetingly if Thoth's transhuman body chemistry might disagree with Gaddie's constitution, but that was the sort of concern that prompted Gall to roll her eyes and tell him he was being an idiot. She fully believed it was good for the boy to expose himself to things to build up his tolerances, and he had been assured by trusted external sources that she wasn't wrong, within reason, so he kept it to himself. Anyway, the image of his son and his best friend bonding was heartwarming enough to dispel it.

"I'd trust you with him more than I trust us sometimes," he said. "You're his guardian, after all."

"And if anything ever does happen to him on your watch," Gall added cheerfully, "Derik only gets to kill you if I don't get there first."

"Good luck with that," Derik muttered, casting a look of amused tolerance for the empty threat at Thoth. Again, he winced from the appearance of the implanted ports. Since Thoth had more or less seen through him, as usual, Derik decided he might as well explain. "Sorry. It's the thought of all the cutting that bothers me. A cultural thing. Surgery just wasn't done except in cases of extreme medical emergency, and sometimes not even then. I know it's not rational, and attitudes had started to change in my own lifetime, but still, the taboo runs deep. I'm glad they're not painful."

He had considered pulling away his fingers. But no. This child was testing him. Testing his ability to supress his instincts, however well-developed they may be.

Consciously, he was aware that this was probably an absurd way of looking at the situation. But he found it useful.

It was a good grip for a baby. He tugged the large digit insistently toward his open mouth, leaning out to close the distance with his tongue protruding.

Both parents watched in fascination. Would Thoth allow this?

(( Verbal replies when this action resolves. {= ) ))

Charlotte thumped Ix on the arm and pointed; Ix shifted her shield so she wouldn't whack Charlotte with it when she turned to look.

"What is it?"

"Specialized Extracurricular Execution Squad!" Charlotte said excitedly. "Those guys are Persona fans—come on, we have got to talk to them!" She grabbed Ix's hand and dragged her through the crowd.

Charlotte struck quite the figure as Peggy Carter, Ix thought as they wove between agents. The uniform suited her.

It certainly suited Charlotte better than Ix's Captain America costume suited her. Feeling very self-conscious, she hovered behind Charlotte when they stopped to chat with the pair.

"I love your costumes!" Charlotte said excitedly. "Charlotte Webb, and this is my wife and partner Ix," she added proudly, holding out a hand. "Can I get you guys drinks?"

"It looks foul," the angel said, peering at the cocktail. He sniffed, and one eyebrow rose. "It smells... sweet, though?" He looked back up at Faust. "What deception are you attempting now, demon?"

"Alright, alright. I'll be back once I've had a drink." At the very least, he had enough social awareness to recognize that he didn't really have much to say.

Thoth, on the other hand, had noticed Derik's unwillingness to look at him. "They don't hurt. If that is what's concerning you. They've been in me far too long for that." He glanced sadly down at the jacks. "Although I admit they ruin the aesthetic."

The marine reached out to touch Gadrik's hand as it reached towards a particularly awkward bit of metal. "Do not pick up a weapon of war, young Gadrik. Not without intent to use it. I fear your father would try to assault me if you injured yourself on my account." Fear, of course, in the loosest sense, and more for Derik than for his own wellbeing. But you had to simplify a bit when speaking to a child.

"Oh, do we get to answer now? 'Cause I get it if you're feeling like you've got to make with the long talk on account of needing to compensate for being so small a bean sprout would look down on you." She grinned. It may have been intended as a friendly invitation to share in the fandom reference—ironic as it was, since she was by far the shortest adult in the group—but it was hard to tell with her.

This time, Derik cut in. "Don't," he said, half warning to his partner and half plea to Tom not to rise to the bait. "We're... all right. Gaddie's in fine fettle. He's sleeping through most nights now, and I thought that would make everything easier, but his crawling might be the death of me." He scratched absently at his jaw, as he sometimes did when feeling uncertain. As usual, his emotions were a mixed bag, in this case of pride in his son's rapid development and fear for the new kinds of trouble he could get into. The fear was under control thanks to his practice of mental discipline, but that only meant it was prevented from becoming full-blown panic. It still gnawed persistently at the back of his mind.

Gadrik, meanwhile, was craning his head around to get a look at the people his parents were talking to, blue eyes bright with curiosity. Gall obligingly turned sideways, and Gadrik reached out toward the glinting metal bits on Thoth's costume and body, making excited burbling sounds.

"Aww, look who wants his own sword already!" Gall cooed, petting the baby's curls. "That's my little Viking!"

"You see what I mean?" Derik said weakly. "He goes right for the most dangerous thing in sight. No offense, brother." He glanced up at Thoth with a watery smile, then away again. The costume and the apparently real hair were amusing, but the sight of the metal jacks gave Derik the willies, which he wouldn't care to admit if he didn't have to.

...at the sound of his name being called. You wouldn't see it, not unless you looking for it. All other signs had been repressed with his usual care and attention. But the Marine was on edge.

He turned, calming a bit as he consciously recognized the source of a call. "Ah, Derik. I trust you have seen hair before? It usually grows on the head and body of most humanoids—"

Tom caught Thoth with an elbow to the rib. "Oi! No growing a sense of humor on me. It's one of the few areas I can provably best you. Well, that and Smash... but no, everyone brings out the tape measures." He waved a hand lazily. "Insert short rant here. Elric I may be, but my dedication to costume has its limits."

Thoth mostly ignored both the rib and his partner's diatribe. He'd found it was better to do that at times like these. Medical had not looked kindly on him the last time Tom's shoulder had been dislocated. "I am dressed as Conan. I admit I am largely ignorant of the source material, but it was the best I could do on short notice, so I was required to grow out my hair for the part. This also gave me an excuse to practice my biomancy—I must admit I'm slipping in that area. I gather you found yourself in a similar situation, albeit for... different reasons." He cast a glance towards Gall and the extremely fuzzy sausage roll. "That must be young Gadrik, then?"

"You know full well it is," said Tom. "Why do you have to state everything so formally?"

"It's simply the way I speak."

"C'mon, let your hair... erm. Down. Relax! It's Halloween! I get to talk all about the my job and The Laundry without having demons blow up my brain after years of watching what I say! Can't you say one thing without it being incredibly formal?"

"...Pahk mah cahr in hahvard yahd 'cause that's a good idear?" Somehow, Thoth even pronounced the lack of an 'r' with extreme deliberation.

Tom facepalmed. "How did you even know about... nevermind. Just... that's... so much worse." He turned to Gall and Derik. "Anyways, how have you all been getting on? If Thoth knows anything, he isn't saying."