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Jun had somehow managed to migrate to the Main ballroom before she managed to squeeze out of the crowd. Initially, she surveyed the surrounding, letting out an impressed whistle.

"...there will be plenty of room for practice!" Even with the crowds, there was still plenty of room on the dance floor to do as she wanted. The short girl was quite certain that she could observe from her practice space, and if she came across any strong people, she could then challenge them to a spar.

Clearly there was nothing wrong with her plans.

Rather than procrastinate (because that was not her style), Jun easily slipped herself onto the dance floor towards an edge. Once she seemed satisfied with her location, she then took to a resting stance.

Rolling her neck, she couldn't help but smile. It was a nice break to practice something other than Northern Mantis style. She got plenty of practice as a senshi now with that fighting style, so this ball was a good chance to practice something else.

Tiger stance.

Her body leaned forward, her dress draping to the ground the closer she got to the floor. Her hands jutted out, fanning out her fingers in a mock-claw manner, while still keeping the fingers tucked back.

Whatever this short girl was doing, it wasn't dancing, that was for sure.

Dude you're a walking skank in heels. She'll probably flip her s**t and run the other way if you walk up to her all bright-eyed and s**t like you get when you talk about cats, and then start... Talking about cats. Sheeit, Blondie, this is why you don't got no friends. The Mauvian suppressed the urge to facepalm and instead clung patiently to shoulder, blanacing steadily with the beat of heeled shoes on floor. Surprisingly, he found it not much different than steps taken in the concrete platforms of Thraen's outfit.

Sadly the train wreck had begun, an now Faust was committed to the presentation of Friendly Neighborhood Cat on the shoulders of the resident freakshow. At the call of his name, Faust uttered a short but trilled "mrrrow" and stood at attention. <********, man, this is why we don't go out together. You'd walk up to every third damn person on the street goin', 'look at my cat. Isn't he soft. Touch him'. ********' A, this s**t is jacked.

I can't feel any potential from here, anyway.

Faust edged forward on Quenton's shoulders before very carefully wriggling his backside to steady for a jump. It was a longshot, as the girl may just go the hell away from the scary almost naked man in four inch pumps, but he had to take the chance to see if he could sense the potential within her starseed. Finally Faust took the leap, hoping to land on the much shorter (and sadly, narrower) girl's shoulders. However, he was a large cat, and without much ledge there to cling to (especially in the advent of a dress, as it seems they don't use much cloth padding on the shoulders in those), he nearly shot straight past her and onto the floor.

Luckily he made a suave and graceful save in the form of, well, backstepping as much as a cat could on smooth skin to prevent from falling. "Mrrr," he grunted again, and waited to feel some potential.

"Some like others' company, some like their own company." He liked generalizations. They felt easy. Smooth. Like a glass of chianti after a long day of hocking tools to the walls.

Alcohol: the Cure All.

"You're young. In the good years of your life. Alone or not, just spend them in a way that makes you happy, that's all. I never got around to doing much of that. Spent all my damn time working, and now look at me." He smiled, laughed a little, but his eyes were locked on the crowd. Occasionally he'd glance over to her, expecting a quip or a look of distaste with all the cold air that wafts off of her. She spelled out that she didn't want t be here - it was all over the way she stood, the way she nursed her champagne, the way she glowered at the world like it wronged her and she had every right to pay it back in spades.

"My daughter, she'd have killed to be here. Just, hand to God, floored someone in cold blood to attend. She likes these kinds of things, especially the one upstairs, or summat, where they've got the bass all jacked up high and everybody's trying to dance in ball gowns and masks. The whole mask thing's a little weird, honestly. Gives off a bad vibe." He toyed with the corners of his mask, but did nothing further to remove it.

"But, knowing her, she'd steal a drink from one of those servers and pretend like she's in her mid-20s to get all the alcohol she could ever want. Guess she got that from her old man." He took a sip, just before more company came their way.

Strangely, it was a rather short girl of asian descent (Jun), who simply struck a pose in the middle of the floor with her dress sweeping across the ground. Just like that - broke into some kind of martial arts kickoff without so much as a word. In response, Leo furrowed his brow and glanced at his drink, expecting some signs of pill residue or some kind of indication that acid was involved. Not that he really knew what acid tabs looked like.

"Looks like you're attracting a lot of company tonight, young lady."

Zachary was a bartender by trade--how could he possibly miss the most poppin' scene in Destiny City, especially on a night he didn't have to work? There wasn't a chance in hell he'd be anywhere else. Tips on New Years were always dismal anyway, everyone was too busy being drunk to take care of the person who had so tenderly crafted their buzz.

But forget those people. Zachary was ready for some classy-as-hell partying, decked out in his usual dress slacks and a deep maroon shirt, offset with a white tie and some fancy-a** golden cuff-links for maximum levels of douche. His curled hair was greased back, the cherry on top of the douche sundae, and with the green holly-leaf mask the receptionist handed him at the door, he was sure to look absolutely ridiculous, and to this he was positively brimming with satisfaction.

Perfect.

He made a bee-line straight for the dance floor and a funky little lady who thought it was time to do some kung-fu dance moves. Shimmying around to where he could make eye contact, he lifted his arms and did his best piss-poor attempt at a Crane stance in response, his head bobbing to the music the entire time even as he wobbled to keep his balance.

"You've got some pretty good moves," Zachary commended, landing in a wobbly horse stance with a grunt of a 'Hya!'. "I know a thing or two about kung fu myself."

Based on the look of his feet, it was pretty clear he had never taken a lesson in his life.

Zachary Esther - Green Mask

---

So he was that sort of drunk.

Rambling was easy enough to deal with, Suri supposed--it was less trouble than cuddly or violent, as long as you knew when to bob your head or hum in vague agreement. She could tune out most of his words, about as much rubbish as the man speaking them, giving her the chance to continue to watch the crowds. Something about lamenting his lost years of youth...couples turning in close and sharing private secrets at the bar...and his bratty daughter wanted to be here but is likely as much of a budding alcoholic as he was. It was small-talk and nothing more, especially with the potential for havoc lingering in the air like sparks to an eager flame. There was a distinct possibility that one or both sides of the war would seek to strike at this event, but if it was supposed to come from her, she hadn't received any orders yet.

Unless...the dress itself had been an order? She mulled quietly over the thought.

"I like the masks," Suri finally replied, sliding hers back up the bridge of her nose."Keeps everything a bit of a mystery." She smiled, if barely, and took another sip of champagne. At this rate, she was going to need another glass soon.

Her nose crinkled at some of the dancers, but if she felt any particular vitriol about the girl's choice of expression she kept it to herself. "I've attracted your company," she paused, glancing down at the rotundness of his figure and back up again, "Does that count as a lot of company?"

Suri Ellis - Black Mask (Nega)

Parties like this were not so much Matthew's thing, coming from a middle class, blue collar family. People like his family got invited to parties that were less glitz and glamour and more potlucks and fire pits. Coming to this one had been something of a reluctant concession to the black mask that dangled between his brown fingers.

Slouching through the front door, Matthew slid his mask on, glad it wasn't some stupid random color like some of the other patrons. It went right along with the black jeans, combat boots and old tux jacket he had appropriated from his father to rip up and pin back together in proper punk fashion. Chains rattled around his hips as he dodged people and made a quick sidle through the crowds towards the more youth-friendly areas of entertainment. At fifteen, he wasn't interested in the baby stuff, but neither did he want to hang out with a bunch of old people when he couldn't even drink without hiding it...

The area with the big screens and the video games caught his attention quickly and Matthew made a beeline for it, ignoring everything in favor of something he knew. Whatever was planned for the night, at least he could enjoy himself before hand.

Matthew Gowan/Corrupt Fulgurite - Black Mask

Daniel grumbled softly and turned to Bailey, fidgeting uncomfortably in his suit, but unpowered he couldn't check auras well.

"Mama brushed it." Daniel said in a down tone. "So I'd look like a grown up. His tone of betrayal was evident at his mother and Daniel pouted, frowning.

"Would rather be out." He said pointedly. "With Al."

He couldn't remember Almary's civilian identity, but hey.

Bailey knew who he'd mean.

Whack! And down Zachary went, before he'd had even the chance to consider that he'd made a terrible mistake. His world went topsy-turvy, and he found himself sprawled out on the ground, his mask knocked halfway off of his face entirely and his hair mussed to its usual ringlet configuration wherever his head had touched ground.

"Haha, you got me there," he laughed sheepishly, rubbing at the back of his head. s**t, that was gonna leave a lump for sure. Still, his head wasn't a split watermelon on the dance floor, and she'd had more than enough room to open a can of whoop-a** on him. Jun had a merciful soul, to open only a portion of the can of whoop-a**, to save the leftover whoop-a** for a**-kicking leftovers on a separate occasion, and for that he was grateful.

"Sorry, I, uh, have that effect on people," Zachary chuckled, pulling himself up to his feet and straightening the crumpled ruins of his freshly pressed shirt. "Let's start over. You're extremely talented. And dangerous, but that's awesome. Would it, uhh, bother you if we danced in a vaguely close proximity?" Zachary wasn't about to start anything serious with this girl, seeing as how she couldn't quite tell if she was fourteen or if she was twenty-four. But, all the same, a dance was a dance, even if it was entirely platonic.

Zachary Esther - Green Mask

Owen was old enough now to attend a 'real New Years' Celebration', or something. Or at least that's what his Mama had said. In fact, she had saved up the money for them to attend because she thought he needed to get out of the house and make friends - he'd been 'too stressed' lately and she was worried about him.

Little did she know that his stress wasn't caused by loneliness or bullying, but rather fear and some rather unpleasant encounters with scary bad guys. Not that Owen twisted could or would ever tell his mother that - he didn't want her to find out and try to take him away from the friends he was making - or worse, think he was one of the bad guys and decide she didn't want him any more!

Thoughts like that were still weighing on his mind, even as he entered the second ballroom in the hotel. Fortunately, they left his mind pretty quickly when he saw the ice cream bar, which he made a beeline for. He paused only briefly when he saw... was that the boy he'd gotten into trouble with at school that one time?

...Nah, couldn't be.

Owen is wearing a RED mask
---

Albert Wiley was not a happy man. His daughter was at a New Years' party... and was attending with a date. A boy. Being just the slightest, tiniest bit overprotective and dramatic in that overprotectiveness, Albert had decided in all of his great brilliance... to follow her.

And of course, the best way to follow her was to attend the ball himself. It was a masquerade ball, after all. If he worked at it a little she might never even need to know he was there. That is, as long as he didn't need to swoop in and save her from whatever horrid fate the boy had in mind for his precious baby girl.

... Alright, so maybe he was being a little paranoid. But really, you couldn't be too careful these days, as he knew all too well. There was far more going on in Destiny City than the average person knew about, and Albert was going to keep his daughter safe from it.

Now, how to find her without her seeing him...?

Albert is wearing a YELLOW mask