Must be some mistake. [open, Rhi?]

[Anonymous]

It took a brave man to wear a red dress.  Liv smoothed it over his chest--he hadn't created any artificial bosomage, because, hey, he was Beautiful Just the Way he Was.  Anyway, they'd gotten the seams in perfect alignment; he couldn't ruin the fit.  The gown was a near-replica of the one Melissa wore on the show.  For Men.  Oh, Aedolis.

Liv patted his hair, grown out and twisted into an updo, and smirked at his reflection in the mirror beside the rec hall door.  Then he elbowed his way into the yearly Pilot party and posed, chin up and fists on his hips.  Beneath his dress, beneath his skin, his nervous system still purred like an antique diesel engine, the aftereffect of Network connection.  

He did not appear to be attracting enough attention.

Maybe his most recent blog post had created some awkwardness, what?

But he wasn't going to think about that.

Early this morning, before the massive stress of getting dressed, he'd gone up to the Eyrie and, and... just because he'd wanted to see the memorybanks, hadn't he?  And there he'd found him, arms raised like a conductor's, and that had been the last of it, and it had all crashed into cacophony, and, and...

He wasn't going to think about that.

Liv picked his way past a silver-haired punk rock Pilot and someone in a shiny helmet, glad he hadn't gone all the way and worn heels, because really.  Someone had set up a buffet table along one side of the room, near the open bar.  Continents of cakes abutted archipelagos of bite-sized skewered treats.  A suckling pig glistened brown, complete with apple, in the middle of the array.  Because Pilots were important people, and they got the real thing, not synthetic meats but, well, that.  Liv didn't like the sight of it.  All things considered it shouldn't have bothered him but he had always had a tendency to look too closely, to anthropomorphize, to relate.  To anything, no matter how disgusting, when his brain slid it into face-recognition pattern he felt the need to--something.

Getting sentimental over a pig?  That, and the smell was horribly familiar--fucking pyrokinesis.  Human flesh smelled like that.

Liv wiped his lips on the back of one hand and backed away from the food.  He spun theatrically on one heel, and crashed spectacularly into whoever had been standing behind him.  Fuck!  That hadn't been purposeful at--well, maybe a little.  Pilot instincts.  Then again, his reputation as a fuckup, surely they wouldn't blame him.  This flashed through his mind very quickly as he turned to see that he'd... catapulted their tilted plate of appetizers with one flailed hand.

"Shit," he said, standing askew, mouth half-open in half-pretended surprise.

[Anonymous]

[center:18133dua]Paperwork, paperwork, and more paperwork.
 The pen broke.
That's a good enough excuse to do it later. God damned paperwork.
Go to hell, paperwork.[/center:18133dua]

A millitary-looking outfit plus hair done up nicer that usual? That was as formal as Riera was ever going to get. She wasn't into this kind of thing; but, she figured, it didn't matter. She had been shooed over here by a higher.

'Well, if you don't want to do paperwork, then do something else of some use!!'

Hmph. She scanned the people going by with her yellow-gold eyes. She was here to check who came and went. Boring, but still better than paperwork. She slumped slightly in her chair. Her usual neutral expression didn't change. Of course, it didn't change until she caught sight of something she definatly wasn't expecting to see. Someone she wasn't expecting to see. Red dress, done-up hair. A man in a dress. She coughed. What the hell?

She sighed to herself. She should have just stayed at her apartment and done paperwork. She didn't particularly like parties, but she hated paperwork. Right now, she wasn't sure if she was more confused or annoyed. A man in a dress. She scoffed. She thought men around here had enough sense to not assume they were women.

There was a bump, then a plate.

She looked up only to see a plate of appetizers soaring over her. She grabbed a flying peice of food from it and ate it. She looked back at the man in the red dress. She pointed at him and said, "Nice job, bitch. Look, you just flung a plate of food. Smooth."
Swearing was often a normal part of her speech, more so when someone did something stupid or when she was angry. This was one of the moments. She scowled at the mess he had created. Some people just were so good at screwing up. She guessed he was one of those people. In her oppinion, there were too many of those types.

[Anonymous]

There was something about high-class social events that always put Bryn on edge. Certain minute details were required of guests, like the proper arrangement of fork and knife on an empty place, and these had no place in her memory - not next to vital issues of national security. You want me to come because it's special and only happens once a year? Sure thing, Nomenere. Just give me two more minutes jacked in - oh you want me to dress as the lead singer from a pirate metal band now? Fine, if you give me five.

"Dicey," she had muttered to the mirror, shrugging the leather jacket on and stretching her arms, "real dicey now, Bryn."

In the ballroom, she gave her shoulders a gentle roll and began making her leisurely way over to the canapé table. By this hour of the night, she had the swagger down, whether it was from the drink or just practice. The sleeves were too long, and it kept falling off her shoulders. Other than that, the look was decent. She'd worn a pair of long black boots, with creases and folds in the patent leather. Under cropped brown hair she tightened a battered Libran gunner's headband - a gutted version of the standard-issue helmet. The trim had been spray-painted a dull red, the goggles pressed against her forehead, and the polished surface gleamed in the light of the chandelier. Bryn reasoned that if she was going to play the costume game, she might as well play to win.

Ah, here we are. And real pork, not just soyatex. Splendid.

Bryn smiled, picking up a little plate and reaching for a pair of stainless steel tongs. She noticed several varieties of wine on the far and - and if seeing was believing, they'd even provided cake for her instead of pie. How thoughtful of them, to go to such lengths for the Pilots' comfort! Her apprehension about the costume party was just beginning to dissolve ... but then she saw the red dress, seconds before it happened.

Liv, you clumsy ass ...

Pilot Sulo's spun around, his elbow swiping neatly at the newly-filled appetizer platter, sending the plateful of prized treats sailing across the room as if on cue. Bryn watched as another woman she'd never met slowed a skewer of herbed olives to a stop and plucked it out the air. Telekinetics. Adjusting her headband, she turned back to the offending Pilot, expression blank. She wasn't really sure whether or not it had been an accident, but given the man's track record, it wasn't exactly unlikely. After a couple seconds, she managed to force a tight-lipped smile.

"Hi, Liv."

[Anonymous]

"Bitch?"  Liv sidestepped the angry woman and flapped one hand in exaggerated contumely.  "Bitch...."  He stopped, head cocked to one side, and lingered over the syllable with some pleasure.  It wasn't a word often applied to him, not like that, anyway, with that feminine poison.  The things dresses could do you for you.  

"... Bitch, please," he drawled, fingers wiggling in dismissal.  She'd hardly been pelted, after all.  He hadn't seen much of her, he recalled.  She was the hard-working type who seemed to take things oh-so-seriously.  Attractive but severe.  

And then there was Bryn.  Apparently clumsiness worked to attract women.  Take note, Sulo: blog whinge and appetizer attack are aphrodisiac.  Bryn appeared less than happy to see him, but never mind, she'd said hello, hadn't she?

"Hey, Bryn," Liv continued with hardly a pause, spinning from one woman to the other.  The skirt of his gown flared around his legs, an unaccustomed pleasant sensation.  He brushed off the front of the dress.  "Apparently I'm a bitch."  His shoulders twinged into a shrug, which felt strange in spaghetti-straps.  "Birds of a feather.  How are you two lovely ladies?"  He gestured between them.

[Anonymous]

Riera smirked. "A bitch I am." She figured, what was the point in getting pissed off at a guy in a dress? Hard to take him seriously. She didn't get up from her chair. She wondered why she bothered talking to him, but she said, "Just fine. I just feel sorry for whoever got splattered by that appetizer." She looked behind her at the little mess, then looked back at Liv. "By the way, I haven't seen you before. What's your name, bitch?" She leaned back in her chair. "And, you, girl. What's your name?" She didn't say it rudely. She simply had nothing better to call him; as for Bryn, she didn't have anything better to call her, either. She figured that a guy in a dress wouldn't be called a guy, but not a girl either. So, she placed it as 'bitch.'

[Anonymous]

"Don't know 'bout you two, but I'm not a bitch," Bryn muttered, turning back to the buffet table and picking up a new plate. It was bad enough that Sulo had the clumsiness-slash-audacity to ruin her meal, but she guessed he wouldn't do it a second time. He wasn't entitled to flirty banter this time. Herbed olives, chorizo, small cakes. With a replenished platter of canapés, Bryn reminded herself of the mission objectives. They were simple, far more so than any of the others she'd ever been assigned by the Dragons.

Get in - check.
Get food - check.
Get out - in progress.

"I am here to have a little bite to eat. I was told the food would be good, but it's hard to eat when it goes flying the moment I fill my plate. So if you'll excuse me, Livos."

She took a half-step towards the door and turned her gaze to Riera, not a little coldly. Clearly the woman had been a Pilot for a while. No S5 candidate would blow it now, at an equinox celebration in full military regalia, by insulting the Pilots. That'd be a sledgehammer waiting to happen - no, time for a spot of unrequited politeness. Bryn extended a hand and spoke, her voice trailing off at the end.

"Bryn Farren, Pilot Noble. A pleasure to meet you, miss ..."

[Anonymous]

"And I'm Liv Sulo," Liv said, tossing his head, sniffing, and stepping between Bryn and Riera.  

He'd seen the look Bryn had given him, and figured he'd do just as well to snub her in return.  Neither of the two were being very nice to him.  Because you deserve what you give, kiddo, or something like that?  Silliness.  He was so entertaining.  That had to fucking count for something. Fuck.  An acid fist twisted in his intestines.  It was the dress, making him emotionally unstable in a feminine fashion.  And what's your excuse for the other 364 days a year?  

"Learn it well, I'm up-and-coming in cryptography and crossdressing," he added, looking severely down at the seated woman.  "And you need no introduction, pretty lady, Riera Xiera..."  He singsonged the syllables of her name.  

Yes, he did stalk the other Pilots.  And so?  One ought to be informed.

[Anonymous]

Riera nodded and said, "Yeah. That's my name." She nodded to Byrn. "As for what he didn't include-" She glanced at Liv-"I'm a Pilot Echo." She said, "Nice to meet you two. Odd introduction with that appetizer and all, but it doesn't really matter. How are you enjoying the party so far?" She looked down at her paper and scribbled a few different names down.

She would now be looking over her shoulder for stalkers. That was fairly disturbing, the idea of a stalker. Or at least to her it was.

[Anonymous]

Bryn managed a quiet laugh at Liv's introduction, looking back down at her plate again. The man was an absolute buffoon, but realistically, she'd met far scarier Pilots. Compared to him, Riera seemed completely on top of her game. Bryn quirked an eyebrow thoughtfully, and a thin slice of ham on a toothpick disappeared between her lips.

"I'll ... ah ... leave you to your converstation, then. No doubt it will be scintillating."

With that, she took a few more steps towards the door and disappeared into the crowd.


(( Will be back later tonight! Skip me in the rotation until then. ))