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“And here,” Kai gestures with the bravado of a tour guide approaching a zoo enclosure, “we have our resident wallflowers!”
“Hi, Wenona! Hi, Ulysses!” Diana gushes, pushing the camera into their faces. Kai can see from the tiny little screen that whatever footage she’s capturing is going to be severely blurry, but there’s not much they can do about it in this corner of the room, completely steeped in darkness save for the blinding flash of the strobe lights every half-second. Oh, well. Shitty video is half the fun of a camcorder, anyway.
Wenona swirls her flute of blood-red punch with a silent nod. Ulysses, sitting next to her, looks a little dazed as he blinks into the lens — Kai figures it’s probably because of the lights. Not the biggest party animals, these two.
“Say hi back, guys,” Kai prods.
“Hi,” Wenona says, her tone not as enthused as Kai would like — but it’s not flat-out disinterested, which is more than he can ask for.
“Hello,” Ulysses follows suit.
“We almost didn’t see you back here! How are you two enjoying the party?” Diana asks.
“Honestly?” Wenona shrugs, eyes drifting to where Mark and Jean are performing on the stage. “More than I expected. It’s not half bad.”
Kai doubts she’s going to go much further than that, so he steps in. “Forget about the party, Diana, we’re here for the costumes!” he chides. “And you’re both looking sharp. Care to tell us what you’re dressed up as?”
Diana angles the camera towards Ulysses, first, who leans back a little in surprise. “Oh, um. I’m dressed as… the Tenth Doctor, from Doctor Who.” It’s a nicely pressed coat over a suit, not too far off from what the guy usually wears. He’s holding onto his glass of punch with both hands, fingers gliding across its surface with a slight restlessness.
“A classic,” Kai nods approvingly.
“I love that show!” Diana cheers, and her excited hops are undoubtedly fucking up the recording beyond belief — not that Kai minds. It’s funny. Her voice drops into a deep, charmingly awful British accent as she says, “Wibbly-wobbly…”
“Timey-wimey… stuff.” Ulysses finishes, tapering off with a weak laugh. He seems pretty out of it. The constant mayhem (heh) of the night must be getting to him.
The camera turns. “What about you, Wenona?”
“A vampire countess,” she answers succinctly. She flourishes a hand down all the ruffles and lace of her gown, and Kai has to admit, she really outdid herself. The velvety material it’s mainly made out of is a clear indicator that it isn’t just any cheap Halloween costume — Kai would bet good money that she got it custom-made and fitted, even.
“It’s so beautiful, Wenona,” Diana sighs admiringly. “You look gorgeous!”
Kai grins. “Scarily gorgeous! Sunk your teeth into any necks yet?”
And Kai expects — he doesn’t know. A roll of her eyes, an indifferent, flat-toned reply that kills his joke dead in its tracks. The usual Wenona fare.
He does not expect her lips to curl up into an intensely-satiated flash of false fang and go, “Why, yes, as a matter of fact. I have.”
A beat passes as Kai processes that. “I… huh?” he says, lost. His eyes seem to refocus through the dim, in that moment, enough to register that Wenona’s deep-red lipstick is smudged.
Then by some unholy instinct, the next place his gaze flies to is Ulysses.
Ulysses, who immediately picks his glass up and drinks. And drinks. And drinks. And keeps drinking, in complete silence, very pointedly not meeting Kai’s stare, and very noticeably turning scarlet. And it’s here that Kai sees his loosened tie, his rumpled shirt collar, flipped up and tugged high enough to cover —
“Oh,” Kai says. “Oh — kay, aaand we’re out.” He plants both hands onto Diana’s shoulders and starts steering them away in a speed-walk, looking over his shoulder to say, “Thanks for the interview! You two have fun!”
Not like he needs to tell them. (Ulysses is still drinking. His glass is already empty.)
The second they step out of the pair’s immediate vicinity, the air feels breathable again. Kai lets out the biggest exhale of his life as he lets go of Diana, desperately scanning for another classmate to film. “That was — that was something.”
Diana looks to him, a scandalised hand over her mouth. It takes a real bombshell to be able to shock her into that degree of speechlessness. “Should we… edit that out?”
He cringes. “Do you even need to ask?”