masquerade ball; open starter [ tw: drug mention ]
the whole affair is decidedly more ‘refined’ than the entirety of one klaus hargreeves… however - he’s not one to miss out on a party. any party. he could give two shades of a shit for propriety. and for the most part - people are managing to avoid the slender seance - dressed in a smart tuxedo jacket - no shirt, a leather kilt type skirt and a neon pink feather boa. his appearance likely far too – tragically common and wholly abrasive – for those of seemingly more lofty classes to rub shoulders with. most giving him a rather wide berth.
eh, fuck ‘em.
he’s chemically enhanced enough to have drowned out any and all voices of the dead - no fun going to a party when you have a gaggle of spirits shrieking about their unfinished business for 24 hours - and the pills and potions have left him lax and mellow.
“what’s a guy got to do to find a decent vermouth around here?”
attempting to orient to the closest bar. because hell, when people are disappearing off the streets and the bodies are piling up, what better distraction than a shindig - during which people can probably do at least one thing they regret... preferably two...