Note: Just an excuse for using lyrics =]
***********
The lobby of the Hyperion was teeming with oddly dressed -um- people
was
stretching it a little. But they all seemed to be having a good
time.
Drinking champagne, eating all manner of interesting hors-d'oeuvres.
All in
all, it looked like the party was a success.
It had taken some serious whining/bitching/threatening from Cordelia
but Angel
had finally agreed that a New Year's Party would be a good thing all
around. A
great PR thing for AI, a thank-you for the firms clients, and a much-needed
good time for the oft put-upon employees. And so, "The Angel
Investigations
'Year in Review' New Years Bash" was born. An offhand comment
by Wes that an
assemblage of AI clients would appear as a costume party anyway had
spawned
(Cordelia would cringe at that word, he thought) the idea. Not
only would
costuming allow for attendance by some of AI's demon clients without
panic and
mayhem, it would allow for a certain amount of free advertising when
attendees
explained their costumes.
The results were extraordinary, he had to admit.
Fred made a truly adorable Dorothy with braids, pinafore and ruby slippers.
She put Connor in a brown onesie and carried him in a basket for the
early part
of the evening. She had briefly considered coming as Alice, he
knew, but she
hadn't wanted to be bothered with the blond wig.
Gunn, still feeling vaguely guilty about Lorne's place, came as Simon
Phoenix.
He really didn't look much like Wesley Snipes, and how he did the yellow
flattop noone knew. The Host taken one look at Gunn and
spewed champagne all
over Virginia, who had, good-naturedly, shown up wearing a fairly accurate
reproduction of an Y'Vkrno virgin sacrifice gown.
Wesley, after much secrecy, and personal angst and indecision, painted
both his
face and a white jumpsuit with LAPD shooting range target stripes and
a
strategic black splotch. Kate pretty much choked on her drink
when she first
saw him, dribbling fake 'Mad Dog' down the front of her ragged clothes
and the
cardboard "Will Fight Bad Guys for Food" sign hanging from her
neck.
Lorne, in typically ornate and dramatic fashion, came in knee boots,
breeches,
and a sumptuous blue velvet coat with spectacularly complex cravat.
"Hessian.
Headless Horseman. Get it?" Not many people did.
At midnight, there had been toasts, and kisses and a general feeling
of relief.
They had made it. All of them.
As the party wound down, Angel looked down at the crowd from the top
of the
stairs. He couldn't help but feel grateful for the years passing.
Both in that
'yay its over' sense, and in the sense that so much had come of the
year.
Cordelia must have sensed his imminent brood, as it was then that she,
resplendent in her pilfered Pylean finery, grabbed his hand and dragged
him
down the stairs. "Dance time. They're playing your song." Her
tone brooked no
refusal.
She led him into the middle of the lobby, where a spot had cleared.
As she
settled herself into his arms, the remaining guests clapped. When the
applause
died down, he noticed what exactly that song was. He couldn't
keep the amused
grin from his face, even as he rolled his eyes.
>> I can't stand to fly/ I'm not that naive
>> I'm just out to find/ the better part of me
"Cordy..." he started
"Hush," she interrupted. "Just shut up, and enjoy the moment."
>> Even heroes have the right to dream
>> And it's not easy/ to be me
"Nice costume, by the way," she said. "I especially like the tights."
-end-