[Costumes are a staple for any and every spooky party, so this Friday the 13th Peter's rocking a shared look with Jean Grey - that of a zombie bride and groom. Wearing a lavish seeming but equally torn and blood soaked suit, Peter's silver hair is messily slicked back and his face hollowed out with makeup and gore. He had too much fun applying (and reapplying,) fake blood, a few hand prints of which are still noticeable on a few surfaces of the house - that stuff's messy, alright?

He toys with a set of gold bands as he walks around the house and enjoys the party, pausing every so often to inquire if anyone's seen his missing bride.] Have you seen Jean by any chance?

About this tall [he gestures with his hand,] dead and red headed? Her dress is to die for, she'd be hard to miss.

[So for a party that's grown from a few invitations to a friend of a friend also being invited, the snack table's become a dumping ground of things Peter put out like pizzas and munchies to anything anyone else decided to bring with them, a collection of alcohol included. Solo cups are distributed to those who will take them and the punch is unmistakably spiked by 7 o'clock if not even earlier. Whoever did it, you did the devil's work today? Good job.

Peter'll be eaten quite often through-out the night as per usual for his speedy metabolism, so cheers to a good beer and a half dozen slices of pizza. The only thing he will avoid, with a genuine look of regret, are the piles of left over candy corn he's left out as both a statement and in vague hopes someone else will eat them. Yes, they're the love of his October life but he's got PTSD. He can't eat them anymore, it's just not the same. You can have too much of a good thing - his mother was right all along.

He's getting himself a drink when he looks up, tipping his head to the person next to him.] Yo, want a beer?

[Peter may not have thrown a lot of parties but he still knows a few things about what to do or not to do as host. You put out enough food and drink to occupy the people, you give them a few things to do - dance to some music, play a few games and congregate in the various areas of the house - and most importantly? You mingle. Who the hell else is going to find out someone broke a lamp or puked in a closet and fix it (or disguise it) before sun up? Who else is going to toss out another bag of chips to the hungry masses? Or give some choice commentary on a costume or three?

Speaking of which, Peter is cruising the crowd a slightly more rumpled zombie groom by the later hours of the night but he does have a perpetual smile. He'll bump in to a few people and offer his apologies, then extending a compliment or three on a good costume choice. Nice wings, great horns. Is that corn syrup you're using for blood? Wise choice.

Chances are if you're in costume he's spoken to you at least once, if only to demand a high five in passing.]