the formal (icon of hell optional)

[molotovmartinis.livejournal.com]

WHO: [OPEN]
WHERE: the Brandt Banquet Hall
WHEN: Sunday March 29
WARNINGS: B|
SUMMARY: the superhero formal. Will things explode?
FORMAT: whatever you feel like


There are extensive tables for hor d'oeuvres, small desserts, and champagne as well as an open bar. Room for dancing is obvious, flanked by a small group of musicians. And there are alcoves for the shy, the hiding, the amorous, the machinating, or the creeper lurking.

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[molotovmartinis.livejournal.com]

If he happened to so much as catch Lucifer's momentary attention, he would lower his head before disappearing into the crowd. The way he saw it, the less time spent around Lucifer, the less likely he was to displease him.

[meaculpable.livejournal.com]

And yet, as these things went, once the Morningstar grew tired of whatever trite words passed for conversation between whomever he last spoke with and himself, he turned and tried to find out where Balthazar had gone off to.

It wasn't an overly hard thing to do. Lucifer moved through the crowd with relative ease, passing hero and villain alike without fanfare; when he finally reached the man, Lucifer held up his glass of wine, and offered him a smirk.

"Mr. Angler, I presume?"

[molotovmartinis.livejournal.com]

He had, at certain points of preparation for the event, considered hanging out in the kitchen or maybe the wine cellar, not that those would be actual deterrents or anything. It was just tempting, was all. His instincts, he found eventually, had not been entirely awry.

Black tie, black suit, and holding champagne, Balthazar said neutrally, "Indeed. How have you found the evening so far?"

[meaculpable.livejournal.com]

"It has been a diversion, I suppose." The Ex-Prince of Hell took a short sip from the glass in his hand, momentarily closing his eyes as the liquid nearly glided down his throat. When he done, Lucifer offered Balthazar -- or, rather, Mr. Angler -- a rather small smile, and a slight tip of the head.

He'd have to give him credit, after all. The half-demon really did look every bit the part he was trying to play.

"And yourself?

[molotovmartinis.livejournal.com]

Without moving his eyes from his not-lord-any-longer, Balthazar inclined his head passively. Perhaps in time he would learn to function more normally within the scope of the Fallen's presence. Until then.

"Oh, I'm satisfied if the community is satisfied," he said ironically, taking a mechanical sip of champagne. Mentally, he fussed over every word, which was a tiresome yet unavoidable (not to mention largely pointless) chore.

I keep forgetting to mention that he has a HUGE scar over his face.

[meaculpable.livejournal.com]

Pretenses upon pretenses. Lucifer fought the urge to roll his eyes, and looked out at the assembled heroes and heroines.

"Do you honestly believe any of them are satisfied?" he asked, after a beat.

Whups, noted.

[molotovmartinis.livejournal.com]

A smidgen of passive-aggressive satisfaction set in. It might be better for him if Lucifer found him a bore. But trying to be boring was, well, too boring.

"I believe there is a boy called Billy who qualifies," he answered, "but otherwise, no. They're like any other humans. Even if they're not human."

[meaculpable.livejournal.com]

He sipped from the glass yet again, and then settled a half-glance on Balthazar.

"And do you notice a pattern in it, yet?"