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"But I'm getting more used to this sort of thing."

Farah nodded. "Got it," she said. "What department are you two in, anyway? We're in Crossovers."

"Just something you need to try. It's a sort of relaxant they developed to deal with the anxiety of their infernal judgement riding on their everyday decisions-- it's quite helpful."

When they reached the table, he wrenched his hand out of the demon's grasp. "Human beverages? Really? You don't require sustenance—unless this is you indulging your gluttonous ways again."

"Rad. I'm a Cybertronian." The robot took a swig from his keg. "So, my kif friend, what do you think of the party?"

Phil chuckled. "Oh, Spense and I get into a lot of trouble. Only the most dangerous missions for us. But, no, we don't actually have a full on med bay in our RC. I'm just teasing you is all."

He'd never before realized just how many dangers lurked in a room full of happily partying agents. There were far too many costumes with hard or sharp bits. Too many legs and chairs and tables and other objects to blunder into and grab and tip over. Too many choking hazards on the food tables. Too much noise interfering with his hearing, even with the music cleverly muted away from the dance floor.

As ever, though, Gall's voice managed to come through loud and clear: "We didn't have to come, you know."

He tore his gaze from the room and forced the tell-tale frown from his face. It wasn't too hard. The sight of her with little Gadrik tucked securely in his carrying harness against her chest had a way of making him smile even when he was anxious about the whole business. The boy was awake and alert, his head with its cap of dark, curly hair turning this way and that as he took in the fascinating sights and sounds around him. At seven months old, he was perfectly fearless and eager to explore the world with his newfound crawling ability.

Hence Derik's trepidation. There was no way Gaddie would be content to stay in his harness the whole time. Eventually, they'd have to let him down, and then... Gaddie would be Gaddie. And they would do what they spent most of their time doing these days: trying desperately to keep up.

Derik sighed. "Yes, we did; it's a tradition. It'll be fine. Probably." He made himself smile more.

Gall rolled her eyes, unconvinced. "Of course it will, you big sissy. Come on—I see Jötun, and you are not going to believe this." She cackled and led the way toward their friends.

"Oh?" Derik followed, one hand at her elbow to keep them from being separated as he looked around again, this time scanning over the heads of the crowd.

Thoth was easy to spot, but Derik didn't recognize him at first, with a full head of dark hair long enough to reach his broad, bare shoulders. He was surprised into laughter. "What in the world...?" When they got within calling distance, Derik raised his voice and waved. "Thoth, man! What is that on your head?"

"What's that on your face?" Gall riposted, unable to resist such a shining opportunity to jibe him.

Derik's "costume" was a red plaid shirt he'd scrounged up to go with the beard he hadn't bothered shaving for the past month. Thanks to his scars, the beard was sparse on the right side and some of the hairs that did grow in were white, a stark contrast to the rich black of the rest of it. He looked lopsided at best, mangy at worst.

Gall hadn't done anything out of the ordinary at all. Gadrik was the only one of them they had managed to put in a real costume, and he was quite possibly the most adorable sausage roll of a baby Gronckle there ever was, even if he wouldn't keep the hood up. Gall simply had to dress as her Berkian self to make it work. Derik had adjusted the harness (which he'd made in the first place) to accommodate the extra bulk of the hoodie with its protuberant padding of soft scutes and spines, and they were quite comfortable.

(( Edit: post expanded. That should be better to reply to! ))

Edward shook his head briefly.

“My name is Mira. This is my partner Edward - “

“You are not my partner! K - Al - Kat is my partner.”

“This is my... trainer Edward. It is nice to meet you all.”

Neither agent exactly looked delighted, although Mira had at least managed a smile instead of Edward’s permanent scowl.

"You have a medical setup in there? What sort of missions are you going on?'

"I'm a kif," Kkukttak said, holding out a hand. "From the Chanur series."

"I just happen to care in the opposite direction to everyone else, that's all." He looked Zaphoriel over. "You need to relax, angel. Come on, let's go over to the bar." So saying, he grabbed Zaphoriel's resentful wrist and dragged him in a roughly alcohol-bound direction.

Phil took off his robot helmet to reveal his average looking human face. He needed to shave. Despite his scruffy outlook he flashed Farah his best smile.

"Don't worry. If anything bad happens to you I can take you back to my RC and take care of you."

"Hello Kkuttak." Spensor replied. "Despite my outward appearance I am actually a Cybertronian. Convincing, I know. We Transformers pride ourselves on our ability to seamlessly take on another object's appearance. What are you, exactly?"

"You say that every year, and yet you still come, don't you?" Tom grinned. "I guess it's not so bad."

Thoth grimaced. "The event is tolerable. However, I believe my costume was a tactical error."

"Hey," said Tom, adjusting his cloak. "I said you should go as Alphonse. I even had some extra cardboard after cutting my prosthetics. It could've been a great partner costume!" He gestured at Thoth with his cardboard-covered hand. "For once, this wasn't my fault. Why'd you pick that anyways? Seems unlike you."

Thoth grunted. "No time. This was the best I could get on short notice."

Despite whatever protests Thoth may have to contrary, his costume was a totally acceptable Conan. He'd even managed to get a pretty reasonable sword and belt for it, and the long hair was convincing enough to make people swear it was real (which it was—he'd spent quite a lot of time making that work, but it had at least got him back into practice with biomancy). The effect was only slightly ruined by the metal jacks covering his flesh.

"...You're just uncomfortable showing this much skin in public, aren't you?" Tom said, grinning.

"..."

"That really is it, isn't it? Well then. Embarrassed, or paranoid?"

"Not. Another. Word."

The young man fussed with the baseball cap he was wearing, still not entirely used to the feeling.

"I am not entirely sure, but it's certainly possible," his slightly older partner replied. He seemed much more relaxed, although he was glancing every now and then at the red armband on his left arm with letters S.E.E.S. emblazoned on it, making sure it hadn't fallen off.

"At least my hair is behaving," he said, reaching up and brushing his hand against the side of his head. It was still odd to feel it cut so short, but at least it wasn't regrowing like it normally would. Shaking himself slightly, he looked around the room, managing to avoid being too distracted by the fact that his partner looked remarkably good with blue hair. "Do you see anyone we know?"

"Not at the moment," his partner replied, before frowning slightly. "It is... disconcerting not being able to notice what I usually would."

"Hey, now," the young man said, elbowing his partner and then grinning at him. "I'm dealing with actually worrying about paper cuts, you can take off your glasses for the sake of the costume."

"That is fair," he said, then joined his partner in surveying the crowd. "Let us see if we can find someone."

She smiled. "Unless the costume means I get tragically injured by the end of the party."

"You and Spensor partners?" she asked.

"I'm Kkukttak," the kif replied to Spensor.

The large "human" looked down at the bipedal lioness.

"Greetings, I am a regular huma-." He was cut off by his partner sliding in between the pair and giving Farah a look over.

"Hello, nice to meet you, Farah. I am Phil and tonight I am a member of a race of alien robots that want to 'connect' with other forms of sentient life. Oh and this is Spensor."

Spensor gave wave and looked over to the rat-faced alien and gestured with his thumb at his partner, as if saying "get a load of this guy".

"And who are you?" Spensor asked the odd rat fellow.

"Hey there!" the elf in the eggplant costume called out to the approaching pair. "Have we met?"

Mira was dressed as a witch. She looked quite like a stereotypical witch anyway, so hadn't had to spend too much time finding a costume: a cheap black dress and the hat Kat had used for her own costume last year. A golden eagle (her "familiar", or so she said) was perched on her shoulder.

Edward couldn't be bothered to find a decent costume, so was simply dressed as himself. "Why are we here?" he muttered. "We're the most anti-social people in HQ - "

"That's hardly accurate," said Mira, "from what I have seen of this place so far. And it could be useful to get to know people. But..."

The eagle squawked.

"Yes, Alma, did you want me to call you?"

The eagle nodded its head.

"She says we should try and be more social," translated Mira, who had cast a temporary translation spell for the party.

"I don't care," snapped Edward. "Shall we... go and sit down?"

"We may as well."

“Let’s just get out of the way of the doors,” he said sourly. “We don’t want to get in the way of anyone.” He paused, then added, “I don’t want to get in anyone’s way. You likely don’t care.” He stalked past, clenching the plastic pitchfork in a resentful fist.

"Like She'd ever let me forget," he muttered. "Still, I'm glad the mockery didn't go over your head, angel-- did the halo help you catch it?" He plucked his own with another grin, before seemingly shaking off the urge to continue batting at it.

“Are you mocking me, demon?” he said stiffly. “Because insulting a member of the celestial host while dressing as one—however poorly—is hardly the most effective way to go about it. Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten what Heaven is like so soon.”

He, unlike his partner, was enjoying himself immensely. He adjusted his white, angelic garb and set the halo more precisely atop the crown of his head in the manner of a particularly prissy butler.

"Don't worry about it, angel," he continued, surveying the room. "Besides, if anyone's going to be able to avoid being mistaken for an agent of infernal evil and chaos, it's... Well..." He looked the angel, dressed in cheap jacket and looking as if he might jump out of his skin if anyone stood up particularly loudly, up and down with a bemused eyebrow. "You're certainly in the running."

"I can't do this," Zaphoriel declared, gripping his plastic pitchfork tighter. He squeezed his eyes shut, hiding the blue goat-eye contact lenses he'd put in, and shook his head. The devil's-horn headband slipped, threatening to slide off. "People are going to get the wrong ideas, Faust—they'll believe you're the angel in this... blasphemous partnership, and then where will I be?!"

((...And because a picture is worth a thousand words, Zaphoriel is absolutely wearing one of those cheesy Halloween costumes, tail not shown. :P))

One was a bipedal lioness wearing an Original Series-era Starfleet security uniform (was dressing up as a redshirt baiting the IO? Probably. Did it matter? Not really.) She was carrying a plate of various snacks.

The other had a long, rat-like face and bony hands. He was wearing rather tattered Slytherin robes, and had a wand sticking out of his pocket. The faint smell of ammonia contributed to the Infernus look slightly. He didn't have any food on him, but had grabbed a cup of punch.

"Hey," the lioness said, looking up at the "human". "I'm Farah."

The "robot" was about the height of your average human male. He seemed to be made out of cardboard with a snack display painted onto his torso. His "human" friend was about 8 feet tall and boxy looking. His suit looked like it was made out of wrapping paper and his round head was frozen in a creepy wide smile, featured a pair of large unblinking eyes and seemed to have the same consistency of paper mache.

"Dressing up as each other was a good idea." The 'robot' said as he surveyed the room, eyes finally resting on the booze table.

"I am very grateful they have accommodated the larger body types here." The "robot's" friend piped up, also eyeing the drink table. Giving each other knowing nod they quickly made their way to the alcoholic beverages. The "robot" got himself a red solo cup of import beer from a small keg and was quickly followed by the "human" who decided to just take the whole keg. Standing with their drinks, they looked out at all manner of strange guests currently present.

Off to the side, near the entrance of the quiet room, stood a bald and rather alien looking woman, nursing a can of beer. Her skin seemed to be a normal shade at a distance but upon closer inspection one could tell it had a slight purple tint to it. She eyed the rest of the party with her smart, yellow eyes.

He picked out an assortment of Generic Sweets and some cake from the buffet, then walked off to the tables to eat quietly.

A young-looking woman clad in elven garb looked around the room, scrutinizing the decorations and occasionally staring at the dance floor in confusion. Levitating a golden harp and a contraption that looked suspiciously like a mechanical replica of a hand, a unicorn wearing a mummy costume walked toward her.

Suddenly, the unicorn collided with something and lost focus, dropping the items she was carrying with a loud crash and cracking the contraption. "Sorry, wasn't looking, uh, I have to go fix - wait, who are you? I don't think I've, uh, run into you before?" she said, noticing that she had walked into the "ghost".

A teenage girl with antlers, dressed up as Toriel, lounged in the quiet room, crocheting something and snacking on a stack of cookies she'd picked up from the snack bar.

A pair of elven women were also sitting in the quiet room, arm in arm, chatting softly. One, a smallish wood elf, was in knight armor, while the other, a tall high elf with dark hair and an androgynous frame, wore a long purple princess gown.

Over in the main room, a half-elf dressed as a satyr leaned on the wall near the tables, with a little elven girl in a valkyrie costume bouncing around at her side.

Three women sat around a table, all dressed in Obligatory Ridiculous Sexy Costumes. They were a high elf, a wood elf, and a human, dressed as an eggplant, a squeegee, and a tennis racket, respectively.

A tiefling and a human danced together, dressed up as an old married couple. The tiefling wore a nightgown and had curlers in her voluminous green hair, while the human had pinned her hair back to look short and worn a bathrobe and fake glasses.

Someone unrecognizable behind their tree costume stood somewhat awkwardly in the corner, trying not to poke anyone with their branches with little success.

An elf wearing butterfly wings stood frozen in the doorway, unsure what to do.

A dark-haired man - on closer examination, he had cat eyes, so probably a witcher - danced with wild abandon, dressed up as Nasuverse's interpretation of Cu Chulainn.

Two winged twentysomething women, both dressed as birds, were methodically sampling all the appetizers.

A brother and sister in ornate robes, wearing beaked masks of woven straw but not dressed up as anything in particular, observed quietly from the drinks table, somehow still standing up perfectly straight after a worrying amount of brandy.

Someone who'd just draped a bedsheet over their head, without even cutting any eyeholes, and called it a day picked their way through the crowd with perhaps a bit more confidence than might be expected from someone who couldn't see.

((Apologies for dumping my Entire Enormous Roster on the thread, but I couldn't pick ^^;))

The 2019 PPC Halloween party was ramping up

The Large Enough Events Space had been decorated for the occasion. A flock of magical bats fluttered near the high ceiling. Candles had been hung from chandeliers and placed on tables, giving the room a slight orange tint and creating appropriately spooky shadows. Skeletons of many species, along with pumpkins (which had mostly been carved, often elaborately, by agents who really needed somewhere more constructive to channel their urge to stab something) had been placed around the room. The overall decor stuck mainly to black and orange.

The back of the room held the most important part of such a party: the free food and booze. One section of the buffet, which was already being pounced on by Nursery kids, was devoted to heaping piles of candy, while other parts included stacks that were less likely to give you a sugar rush, appetizers, and all matter of drinks. The items were labeled so that the partygoers would know roughly what would agree with their biology because no one wanted a repeat of that time someone didn’t realize that the cyanide fries contained cyanide and had to be rushed off to Medical.

In front of the food, the room was roughly split into two halves. One half was a large open space for agents to mingle in that eventually gave way to a dance floor. The A/V division had, over the years, scoured the multiverse for things that would sound spooky but also make good dance tracks, and they’d done a pretty reasonable job of it (though, due to the many different musical cultures in HQ, most attendees found some of their choices just plain bizarre). Sound dampening fields allowed the music to be up loud on the dance floor without making it more than a quiet background sound in the rest of the room.

The other half of the room had been fitted with tables and some chairs. The tables varied in size and height from an inch or so high (these were meant for faeries, pixies, and other small agents and were cordoned off to prevent larger agents from squishing everyone) to a very tall and tall table that could accommodate dragons and Marsha the triceratops (which a lot of more typically sized agents were gathering under).

Facilities, sadly, had slightly misestimated how much of each seating type was needed, so most of the human-sized agents would need to share tables.

Off to the side, there was a door that led to a quiet room full of couches and other places to relax for people who needed to duck out of the party for a bit.

As HQ’s denizens filtered in, the noise level began to rise slightly as conversation flooded the room.