Welcome to Gaia! ::

The little flyer promoting the "Annual Albra Mixer" as it was called had intrigued Isaac since it had appeared in the mailbox he and Brad shared. A mixer? A dance? What good fortune! Dancing and alcohol usually made for a good combination when Isaac was involved, and he was ridiculously excited until he spied the little footnote included at the bottom.

"*Alcohol will not be served."

Well, that was all right, Isaac would persevere. Dressed in what he prayed was semi-formal attire (a bowtie, slacks, and a T-shirt he might've not worn that week, he wasn't sure) Isaac approached the party, Gabby in tow.

"I don't want to meet the other Ghosts. From what I've already gathered they're all morons."

"Pence is great!"

"Whatever. Just don't embarrass me." Sighing, Gabby floated into the small little social center, ignoring the door Isaac politely held open for her in favor of phasing through the wall. The snub didn't even register in Isaac's head, and he entered the party, bright smile and somewhat manic expression already equipped.

"HAH!" Gabby cried triumphantly. "Empty. Can we go now?"

Isaac frowned, glancing at his watch. "We must be early." he concluded, and immediately went to attack the buffet. Gabby rolled her eyes.

Nobody could say that Charlena Jones didn't know formal; it was just that it was totally the wrong idea of formal. She would have looked very nice in a tea-length party dress and maybe some appropriately nice Pucci wedges. Her dark hair was even forced into a very nice sleek chignon. Unfortunately, she had missed the plot entirely from the head down and came in a man's suit with a snazzy tie. (She had not worn the Spiderman one. That was a blessing.)

Nobody could say that Charlena Jones did not know what to do at semi-formal events, because she did: it was called snafflin' the buffet table. She made the same beeline as Isaac, rating the cajun turkey fingers highly and disdaining the cracker things.

"Nobody ever eats you, cracker things," she said sympathetically. "There is a reason for that: you taste like barf! Ha! Sucks to be you."

It was the third outfit she was trying on in the last ten minutes, and in a vain attempt to decide whether or not this was the one, Allie laid her hands on her butt and stuck out her hips and chest, wiggling a little to get the best result. Squinting at her reflection, she finally made the decision that this was the one.

"You don't do that in public, do you?" Basil asked from the threshold, in a patient and teasing voice.

Allie's head whipped around, and she laughed delightedly as she forgot about her appearance and approached him to fix his crooked tie. "This coming from the man that looks absolutely ridiculous in a tie, and cannot even tie it correctly," she chides him, pulling him closer so that she can correct the travesty. "You may act like you're a grown man, but a grown man can tie a tie proper."

"You keep fixing, and we'll be late," he offered smoothly.

"Of course, of course." The dance instructor took his hand in hers firmly and drug him towards the social center in a deliberate manner that was far from intimate. "I'm so excited, it'll be our first glimpse at the tenants that will share the building with us!"

"Which are you more excited to see?"

"Both." As they neared the social center, Allie simply gave up on Basil and released him from her bearlike grasp, and barelled through the doors at an unnescessary speed. The result was the double doors were thrown open and she danced on in, a ridiculous sight to see in a maroon turtleneck and fitting slacks.

Isaac's grin only widened, and eventually he released her hand; for a moment he didn't really seem to do with it now that it had ceased performing an action, and he awkwardly thrust it into his pockets. "Lucy! Lucy, Lucy - that's a lovely name, Lucy. I'm Isaac, and that's Gabby." He glanced over his shoulder for his Ghost, but she had stayed near the buffet table, sulking as she kept her spectral bottom firmly planted in the cocktail shrimp.

"Ah, well, she's just a bit shy. Hey, do you dance?" Isaac asked, eyes bright with earnest hope. Someone was going to dance with him by the end of the evening, so help him god!

"Gabby? Dance?" She asked both with an equal amount of shock and wonder. She didn't see anything but a sulky bluish spot in the direction he had indicated and the fact that a boy was asking her to do something so intimate as dance, a boy she had never met before when all boys usually wanted from her was an extra person on their soccer team, left her in a state of awe.

A burble in the back of her mind caused her a bit of pause, but then she was awash in delight and to her horror, she stuck out her hand, curtsy-ing slightly, something she didn't even know she was capapble of. "But of course I dance. So nice of you to ask!"

Where had that come from?!

Dusky hadn't quite decided why she was even bothering to attend this.. Mixer whatchamacallit. She disliked parties, because they were loud and full of obnoxious people and the music tended to be something absolutely horrible (like the best of Elevator Music, Volume 1 - 11).

She disliked dressing up, because it reminded her of all the Daddy's Little Girls she used to put up with at her old job, who spent like it was going out of style and got huffy and entitled when unlike Daddy, you told them no. As a result, while everyone else was probably looking remotely decent, she was wearing a faded lime green t-shirt with a 1-Up mushroom on it, a blue hoody on top of that, an old black skirt that stopped halfway towards her knees (it was a little big. as most things tended to be on her), plain black tights that she'd had since around the time she was 12 and had since turned dark grey in the wash, and a beaten old pair of blue sneakers. Her hair was at least clipped back out of her face. It was probably the part that took the most effort.

So. Now here she was, shoulders hunched, squinting at the big double doors like they were some sort of offensive gate of doom, ready to open wide and expel her to some dark pit centered somewhat close to the 5th Circle of Hell. The one reserved for *****, retail workers, and people who talk in theaters. And why? Well, two reasons. One, there was the mention of free food. Dusky was always keen on food she didn't have to pay for, and could eat as much of it as she could. Two, there was a dead guy over a foot taller who hadn't left her alone about going, but Dusky had a keen sense it dealt more with the fact he wanted to go somewhere than him trying to be nice.

"Why am I doing this again?" Dusky rolled her eyes back to look up at July, who despite being perfectly capable of getting in, appeared to be waiting on her.

"Cuz it's good for ya. Gonna be stuck here anyways right?" July offered, adjusting his hat.

"I hate parties." Dusky replied simply, squinting and looking like a disgruntled chipmunk.

"You hate everythin'. And you were belly-achin' 'bout bein' hungry." he pointed out.

"... FINE. But when I say we're going you can either come or you're on your own." Dusky retorted, and pushed one door open with such a lack of enthusiasm you'd think behind it sat a dentist, waiting to give her a root canal. Or 4. July looked pleased at getting her to do something other than whine, and followed after, though he did sort of frown when she just let the door phase back through his face rather than holding it open. "That coulda hurt ya know."

"It's a pity it didn't!" she quipped in reply and scurried over to the buffet table on the other end away from Allie and Charley to see about some finger sammiches.

"Hey a*****e, mind your hands!" Gabby scowled, glancing down at the hand currently stuck between her thighs in order to reach the cocktail shrimps. "******** christ. Even being dead doesn't keep the perverts away." With a huff, Gabby drifted off the plate and instead moved to sit on the curry puffs, with a dirty look thrown in Charley's direction.

"Hey! Great!" Isaac said enthustiastically, and all but seized Lucy's hand before leading her out to the dance floor. He noted, with glee, that several more people had arrived. No Brad though. That was too bad! Isaac knew Brad was such a big fan of new people, after all.

"What kind of dancing do you do?" Isaac asked, and carefully put his hand on Lucy's waist, "I mean, kids these days. Man. You lot - you're all crazy. International style myself, it's the only way to go. American style's a bit too swooshy for me." Then, grinning with the same manic fervor he always maintained, he began to swoop poor Lucy across the dance floor.