The dance floor parted around Rikive as best it could. Most everyone there, especially the supernaturals, were dressed for a night at a fancy club. Dress shirts, ties, little black dresses and such. The humans were easy to pick out since their clothes inevitably involved denim, short skirts and excessive jewelry. So both crowds viewed the woman in medieval armor and sporting weapons from a few centuries ago as something above and beyond an oddity.

The bartenders were water nypmhs from the main river, so they at least knew to give Rikive something on the strong side when she passed by. But the chefs piling up finger foods, sliced deli meats and cheeses were one-hundred-percent mortal. They were coming and going so quickly it didn't matter. They did stop one and all to look at the mountain of food piled up by Rikive and simultaneously marvel at her figure. Maybe walking around in a hundred pounds of ringed steel counted as a workout?

So in their Saturday Night Frat Party getup. Rikive's escorts quickly found themselves isolated from the rest of the crowd. Nobody would talk to them either, a few eyed them as food, and a few others seemed to actively take an interest in them in a not-so-discreet or pleasant way.

"Man, we should've just taken the crazy bitch to a bar," Phil, the shorter, complaining one yelled into Jeff's ear. It'd been Jeff who'd taken them here in the first place, so it was his fault they were wasting a whole Saturday.

"Whatever man," Jeff yelled. "We can always take her out someplace else. I wanna see if I can snag a bottle of something. Why don't you go dance?" Jeff took a second to look left, then right, scanning the crowd for their third wheel, Pat. Normally his best bud, Pat was built like a linebacker and about as sharp as a marble. There were some big people in this party, a lot of them weird looking, but Pat could probably go toe-to-toe with the best of them.

"Where's Pat?"

[b]==============================================[/b]

Pat was muscling his way out toward the balcony, having gotten lost and bored and his head starting to hurt from the music. He didn't know what to do at parties like these. But even over the noise of the party, he was hearing something. A voice, whispering, with a pitch and melody just like his momma's when she'd sing to him as a kid.

'Go outside,' it said. 'You'll like it! So nice outside.'

So Pat followed the voice, coming up on the balcony behind the big fancy chair. And he saw a lady, big and tough but not as big and tough as he was! She was eating three Thanksgiving plates of food at once- he could probably eat more than that. If coach would let him.

'Don't worry about her,' the voice said. 'Look at IT!'

Which was when Pat laid eyes on a weird, mish-mash of a guy (girl?) with fancy clothes, fancy hair in a ponytail, and a baby pacifier in his mouth, yelling into his phone.

'He's all wrong, isn't she?' The voice said. 'So wrong! What is he? Why can't he be one thing like he's s'posed to be?'

"He is all wrong," Pat mumbled to himself, nodding in agreement to the voice.

'What do we do with wrong things?' The voice asked.

Pat didn't answer, 'cause he knew what to do with wrong things. Like his daddy said, you get rid of them! And the wrong thing was right there by the balcony, and the voice said 'Yes. Yes, just throw him! Like you do in the wrestling ring!'

[b]==============================================[/b]

"Nyope! Nyope, yew lishen here yew bish!" Parry Magnus snarled around the rubber bulb in his mouth at the phone he held up to his ear. "I'm nah having dish! I trew dish party for yew! Yew know "

"Well Parry, darling, I'm absolutely delighted that you care so much for me." The Fairy Queen's voice was smooth as silk and cool as water as she replied, never missing a beat. "But you must know that in my condition, such music as you favor is very very uncomfortable. I must think of the child who will be my princess."

"She'll be forty-fird prinshess in rine!"

"The line of succession, Parry. It must be preserved." Someone spoke beside the queen, words muffled and followed by a snicker. "I'm afraid I must be going now Parry. A Queen needs her rest. I'll be hosting de Lacy and his inner circle tomorrow." 

"What about all deshe hoomans? Yew cwashed my pawty wif hoomans!"

"Whatever are you speaking of, little dove? Good eve and enjoy thyself!"

[i]Click.[/i]

"FUCK YEW, YEW UNGWATEFUL BISH!" Parry snarled into his phone. With the consummate skill of centuries of practice while watching the best, buffest, yummiest track and field performers, Parry reached back his arm and pitched his iPhone over the edge of the balcony with supernatural strength. It traveled a good block before beginning its descent, landing in a garbage can outside an apartment complex with a thunderous CLANG!!!

Parry let out a frustrated scream into the night air, mussing up his hair with both hands and stomping his feet. His guest of honor couldn't outdo him, so she flat out snubbed him! This was so-

"Hello," Parry said, blinking as he noticed the newcomer sitting on the balcony. Parry caught himself momentarily, shoving the pacifier back in his mouth. He'd used it this long, he figured, fuck it, why not? "Bettew. Hewwo. Pawty's inshide, outshide ish fow management. An' coshtume pawty is neksht weekend. Yew have anyfing elsh yew can weaw?"

Parry was strangely transfixed by the sight of the ragged, hungry, and probably tired woman who'd come into his party wearing all the wrong clothes and accessories. So transfixed, he didn't see the 6.5 foot beast of a man trudging up behind him, hearing imaginary voices telling him to throw Parry over the balcony onto the streets below...