But instead, Gloria Vanderbilt sloshes vodka over the B neg that's already in her glass and says "I'm sure I've no idea. If I wanted to worry about things like that, I'dve stayed human. Fledglings! You want to be part of both worlds, it's cute."

I'm sure you're surprised to know that I've never been called "cute" in my life. Funny, yeah, witty, once in a great while, vulnerable, definitely, but never cute. Even "that bastard, John Munch" has come up more than that."You know, I really owe Darla..." the woman says. "She *gave* me Eduardo. He could go All. Day. Do you know how special that is?"
Coming from you, babe, I think, I can about guess."

Is he here tonight?" I say, reaching for an Out as fervently as a suspect.

"No, he's dead. I hated to do it, but he couldn't keep up. Looked nice in a Speedo, though. You wouldn't know anything about that."

I don't know what shocks me more...the confession, or that she emasculated me in front of the princess' whole social circle. Mentally, I interrogate her for a few hours than bash her head against the window glass until the sun shines in and finishes her off, but then I remember that would be a murder-suicide. Fuck, this vampire gig can be hard sometimes.

Murderous urges thwarted for another day, I circulate...I almost mingle...well, for me. I introduce myself, and give pretty cleavage only minimal attention.

I get a lot of this. "When you say you're *with* Darla, you mean as a minion, right?"
One young woman, of the clean-cut appearance I always want to look good for, takes it one step further. "You guys aren't..."

"Yes," I say, "Twice today, in fact."(Not bragging. Correcting misinformed youth...you understand.)
"I'm so sorry! It's just...sexually, Darla has two speeds...pretty boys and chicks. And...well, you're not...a chick." she finishes lamely. Ah, hypocritical human-trained manners, how I've missed you, without knowing it.

Jeepers, erika.

You've got me actually feeling sorry for him. I can't wait until Kay shows up....

The Munchkin, c'est moi.(Well, with some fairly important additions/subtractions.) This story is fun, but has no direction whatsoever...I'm just like "That would be fun. I'll write that. " And I do. Like right now, I'm picturing Munch and Angel meeting. Munch: Can I ask you what your problem is? Angel: I'm busy atoning for all of my atrocities. Munch: Do you have to be so miserable about...blah, blah, never again, blah. You're giving me a migraine just looking at you. Angel:I can't be with a woman because I will lose my soul in a moment of perfect happiness. Munch:Perfect happiness from sex? Somebody, no pun intended, saw you coming my friend. Bwah. Besides, it takes at least three times for it to be good anyway. So, I figure you get get acquainted sex free, anyway.

You know, I always wondered why Angel wasn't just shagging his brains out? Because the "perfect happiness" thing was something I always read as happening because it was Buffy - the woman he actually loved.

Dude, if I'm Angel, I've got a stable of dewy-eyed little hotties I visit specifically for sex, which would be safe, because who cares about any of them?

Yeah...I could see that, and you know Munch would.ETA: I'm not actually writing that...I don't think, it's just they have such different attitudes to vampness. I have no idea what I'm gonna do now, but I liked the "bitchy party guests" thing. What do you think next? Kay and Klutz!Wesley? Well, after Cordy gets in an "Annie Hall" comment about Kay's likely attire.

I rather like the idea of Wes finding Kay something of a turn-on. Or vice versa. Or both.

Because he really isn't predictable or conventional when it comes to women, and Kay aint your basic magazine cover girl. But I can see him wanting to get lost in that amazing hair.

And he was with Virginia, who also had very beautiful red hair, although not in ML class.Dude, nobody does... I could see him trying to captivate her with "rogue demon hunter" anecdotes.

And we know she likes UK accents (her and Ripper).

That's true.

Kay gets to the Hyperion:

So I finally find this place, this Hyperion. Back when, it must've been very chi-chi and swank, but I worry that Detective Lockley steered me wrong, because it's just the sort of place to end up an SRO or a shooting gallery. And I was late because I got lost and had to face the Ritual Eyefuck, L.A. version. Why don't the cornerboys get some new material, huh? It's not like they're busy with advertising and public relations. That crap they're selling kinda sells itself. Anyway, these were just boys, wannabes really. One look from me and they took off, hauling ass down the street.I was all proud, but then I wondered how that happened. Time was, me and Carrie...excuse me, Carrie and I, used to get all the girly mags... Seventeen and shit, and practice our sexy faces in the mirror. Now, I'm proudest of looking scary.

Inside, there was a brunette on the phone. This had to be Angel, though the name came off a little too "outcall massage" for the young woman I was looking at. "Are you Angel?"
I hoped she was. It would be nice working with a woman for a change, although I remembered my recent experiences with Russert and Kate and tried to keep her plumbing out of it.
"One second," she told the person on the phone.-more-