It's a secret... tell your friends

[forserious]

Who| Zoolander and anyone!
What| A welcome party of Capitol proportions
Where| Super secret warehouse party club
When| A few days before the crowning.
Warnings/Notes| None!


Everyone currently in the Tribute Tower and the well to do and elite from around the Capitol have all received some invitations! They say in hand written letters: "Wellcome Derik to Distrik 10!" and includes a time and a place. The time is tonight and the place is an old warehouse that most people probably thought was closed down. Anyone who chooses to take up this odd invitation will find that the warehouse is now a jumping club with music pulsing and many bouncers out front.

Of course, those who have received invitations are allowed in straight away. A couple of hours into the evening Derrick will have the DJs stop spinning for a bit so he can address everyone in his slightly airy tone.

"Wow, I'm excited to see so many of you here. This is a great way to be greeted into the fabulous world of tribute fashion."


Anyone from District 10 who comes in will be escorted to the VIP lounge where Derrick is waiting for them. He has custom drinks available and specialty gift bags that include colognes, makeup of every kind, and some creams for every sort of skin type.

"I'm glad you could come. I'm ready to meet all the fantastic people I'll be designing for and dressing up. Do you have any special requests?"

I should be noted these special requests may or may not be entirely forgotten by morning.

Comments

[youbarium]

"What --" Carlos protests, as he is escorted directly back to the VIP room. "Now wait just a minute, I didn't think this was a party, I just wanted to meet --"

And then Derrick speaks, and Carlos listens, and the wheels start to turn. "Wait," he says, suspicion clear in his voice. "You said you would be designing. You're not a Stylist, are you?"

[quiteliterally]

Chris mills through the crowd, looking for their gracious host. When he locates Zoolander, he snaps and points to his face, smiling brighter than a human ought to be able to. "Derrick Zoolander."

An enthusiastic greeting if ever there was one, even if this particular stylist was a cause for budgetary concern unmatched by almost any other.

"You are a terrible speller."

[paidinbeer]

Hope those gift bags had a special cream for this skin type.

Orc lumbers into the club clad only in a pair of custom made jeans and shoes. His previous stylist had gone through a phase where he would try to paint Orc's bare chest and back with things. Orc didn't much care for the things he'd paint so he simply avoided the old stylist as much as he could.

Of course all good things must come to an end and so here he was being escorted into the private VIP lounge.

Thankfully there were drinks. Orc started with something blue. He'd always liked the color blue.

[atippleoftransparency]

"If you get me pants that aren't made out of skin, there is a much higher chance that I'll wear them instead of disposing of them and stealing stuff from other people."

The pants Lyle was wearing were not leather, but they also clearly weren't made for him. They were dark green and rolled up at the cuffs -- rolled up neatly, but still rolled up. They didn't go at all with the iridescent black dress shirt, black gloves, and silver-on-black waistcoat. He was ignoring the drinks in favor of pawing through the gift bag, opening and sniffing everything and occasionally squinting at the labels.

Nope, all in English. Sprock.

"Other than that, I tend to stick with a black and white color scheme back home. It looks good on me and I don't have to mess around with it too much."

[futilecycle]

Sigma isn't entirely sure why he bothered to accept the invitation. He tries to remind himself it was a gesture to become more sociable, and, in general, a more likeable person to those associated with his district, but the moment he enters the warehouse beads of sweat collect on the back of Sigma's neck. This is not an environment he feels comfortable in, and he finds himself grateful when someone arrives to whisk him away to a more private lounge.

Nervously Sigma pulls up a chair next to his new stylist. There is an awkward silence as the herculean man beholds Derrick, clearly not one for makeup parties or fashion. Sigma passes the gift bag a sidelong look, hoping to discreetly do away with it as soon as he could.

"Ah... No. In fact, I do not intend to stay long. I only wished to introduce myself. My name is Sigma Klim."

He is definitely regretting coming.