There's No Treat Only Trick!

What The Fuck Just Happened?

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Jacque discovers at half past ten that she might be at the wrong Halloween party.

Looking back, it's a simple mistake. Because her phone recently took a dunk in the toilet, Shane wrote down the address change for Eloise's party on a post-it pressed to the fridge instead of texting it to Jacque, and it's not Jacque's fault that Shane's threes look fives which look like nines. Nor is it her fault that, when presented with a two-hundred year old kimono bathed in strobe lights, Jacque tried to call Kyla to check that she was at the right place and got sent straight to voicemail.

So Jacque hung up, took in a deep breath, patted down her kimono, and promptly entered the front gates into the courtyard.

That was forty minutes ago. Since then, Jacque has had three glasses of blue punch with little gummy sharks floating in it that's definitely been spiked with saki or vodka or both. Probably both. Definitely both, seeing as Jacque is currently sitting on a sofa in a large living area next to, what appears to be, a solid white husky wearing a red sweatshirt.

Yeah. Yup. Alcohol has most definitely been consumed.

Jacque's tipsy, but she's not buzzed enough to miss that she doesn't recognize any of the four dozen people here. And seeing as her friends aren't ones to ditch and there's no way they'd play a prank this mean on her, Jacque reaches the conclusion that she just walked into a stranger's very expensive home, uninvited, and started eating their food and petting their well-dressed dog.

"Oh. I'm so sorry," Jacque says, tugging her hand back from where it was resting between the dog's ears, casually scratching, to tuck between her knees so they can't stray. The dog in question slowly swivels its head to look at Jacque, and Jacque is startled to find a very human gaze staring back at her.

Big dogs are rare in the city, but they're Jacque's favorite to get at the shelter. They just have so much love and joy in their bodies, and they always have the most compelling eyes. Like Jacque's talking to another person and not an animal.

"You have very beautiful eyes," Jacque tells the dog. The dog in question blinks at her, its blue eyes piercing. "I'm sorry for touching you without permission. I think those gummies in the punch are like, fifty percent vodka by this point. You're very soft. "

The dog chuffs, ducking its head only to look right back up to Jacque. Jacque thinks it makes the dog look bashful and she grins, her gaze turning back to rove over the party. "I work at a shelter a few neighborhoods over. It's kind of a habit to pet everything I see at this point. But that's not fair to you. But you are very cute. " Another little cough from the dog. "Sorry, do you not like cute? Handsome? You're very handsome. I bet people try to touch you all the time. My friends do that to me, pet my hair. I tell them off but the attention is kind of nice."

At the mention of her friends, Jacque remembers that she's still very much so in a stranger's home, chatting up their pet. She starts surveying the room again, looking for points of exit, but her attention keeps getting caught on the other party-goers. Looks like costumes were mandatory here, as well, but Jacque thinks there's a pitiful lack of diversity. No superheroes, anime characters, or pop-culture icons. There are more than a handful of people in historic clothing. Lots of animal ears and tails. Some people just look like they pulled everything that looked somewhat goth from their closet and put it together to wear out.

Jacque herself is wearing what she wore to school, one of her casual kimono in dark blue, but Marie lent her an embroidered overcoat to wear from the last play the theater department put on. She forgot the traditional umbrella back in the studio, but Jacque thinks she pulls off the traditional drama look well enough.