I’m trapped in this Hel of a party and I can’t seem to convince Sigyn that it’s time to leave. Surrounded by people I can barely tolerate, no food, and only Quill’s dumb mix tape for music. Sigh. At least Sigyn’s having fun.
S: “Hi! I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Sigyn.”
D: “Hi, Sigyn! Great flower costume. I’m Darcy.”
S: “I don’t recognize your costume. Who are you dressed as?”
D: “Hahahahah. I came as an unpaid lab intern. Convincing, right?”
S: “Muffy, I can’t get over what a good Pepper Potts you make. But what’s in the briefcase?”
M: “Oh, just what every high-powered female executive carries around. You know.”
S: “Hee hee hee!”
D: “Hey, little pinchy dude, want to, like, go see if there’s some melted butter somewhere?”
We seem to have been here forever.
Still no refreshments, and the rabble have devolved into something called “chicken fighting.” You can be sure I will ban this ludicrous practice when I take over the planet.
L: “Sigyn, can we pleeeeeeease go now?”
Please examine this viscous pink substance I created in my lab.
L: (poke, poke, poke) “I don’t trust it.”
H: “Hey, guys! You really need to try this! It feels really neat between your toes!”
M: “It looks like a big, pink tongue, but it’s all cool and squishy…”
D: “And it’s s t r e t c h y, too!”
S: “Help! It’s got me! Hee hee hee hee!”
M: “Stark, this stuff had better come out of my wig…”
IM: “Hey, folks! I’m here! The party can start now!”
CA: “Stark! If you’re here, then who is that there in the Dalek suit—?