It was perfect, she thought as she checked everything in the mirror. Her wig didn’t even look cheap like she had been worried about. Everything was just right, even the little blue letter card she had hot glued to her mitt so she would have it there all night to help anyone who might be a little confused about her costume.
She didn’t know much about Mitchell and his fiancée, but she decided they must be good people if they were hosting a “pre-wedding costume bash” as an excuse to just get all their friends together the night before the wedding. She had never been so pleased to be a plus one.
“You ready?” Jane asked as she fixed her tie once again, even though it was perfect.
“Of course,” Darcy agreed, shoving the room key into her bra. She loved that they had rented out a room here at the hotel for this party. Two nights in a row where she could walk back to her room straight from the drinking. These people knew what they were about.
“I can’t believe you make such a good Groucho Marx,” she said, laughing as Jane waggled her grease painted eyebrows. “You are full of many talents, Jane Foster.”
“I know I am,” she agreed, sticking the fake cigar in her mouth. “Now let’s go.”
They easily made their way down to the party and were hit by a wall of sound as the music blared. There were already people dancing energetically while others were enjoying the small buffet and cash bar. (They had been warned that tonight would be buy your own while tomorrow’s drinks were included. Darcy didn’t care, and she’d yell at anyone that thought otherwise. Everything non-alcoholic was free, so if you wanted to drink, that was your choice. She was limiting herself to just one or two. No need to be hung over tomorrow.)
Darcy made her way to the bar and ordered for herself and Jane before realizing she’d have trouble carrying the drinks back with her goalie mitts.
“Who are you supposed to be?” a woman asked, clearly dressed up as Princess Leia.
“You don’t know?” she asked looking down at herself. She was positive she had nailed this.
“Sorry, no,” the woman said, placing her own drink order.
“Do you watch any British TV?” she asked, thinking she might ease the woman down the path to the right answer.
The woman shook her head. “No.”
Ahhh. “You wouldn’t know it then,” she said with a shrug, pulling off her mitts and shoving them under her arms as she grabbed her drinks. At least this woman simply didn’t have a reference point. Surely plenty of others would have no problem with figuring her out.
Except they did have problems figuring her out. As the night wore on, several people had made guesses, but no one had been right. She was actually getting pretty bummed because she was so positive she had nailed this.
A slow song came on, and she started to leave the dance floor when a man stopped her. “May I have this dance?” he asked. He was dressed in a plaid shirt with a cardigan over it. He had a pad of paper in his pocket, and she could make out lists of letters and numbers.
“Are you…are you Jon Richardson?” she asked as she put her arms around his neck so they could sway together.
“You know, you’re the first person to get that tonight!” he said, clearly excited. “I thought for sure I had done a great job with my limited closet options.”
“You did,” she agreed.
“Though I suppose of all the people to figure me out, Rachel Riley makes the most sense,” he said nodding toward her person. “I remember the episode where she wore that kit. It was funny how she couldn’t seem to get the letters on the board.”
“Thank you!” Darcy said excitedly. “No one has figured mine out either tonight.”
“My name’s Rabbit,” he said, smiling down at her. “I figure us Countdown fans should know each other. Who knows what kind of garbage everyone else here is watching. I need to keep my eye on the sane ones.”
“Darcy,” she said, giving her own name. “And I agree. I actually had several old episodes queued up on YouTube to watch tonight if the party was a bust and I went to bed early.”
“Maybe it’s a bit forward of me, but might you be interested in having a friend to watch those with?”
“Won’t your date complain?” she asked, her eyes darting around the room.
He shrugged. “I doubt it. He’s probably going to sneak off to one of the bridesmaid’s rooms tonight. He only brought me because he’s been after Heather forever and wanted someone with him for moral support.”
“Moral support for hooking up at a wedding,” she said, amused.
“I know.” Rabbit grinned. “But really, if you’re not comfortable, I’d still like it if you saved me a dance tomorrow night.”
“I didn’t say that,” she said, a smile pulling at her lips. “And I’ll definitely save you a dance. Maybe several. We’ll see how good of a watch partner you are.”
“Deal,” he said.
It was then that Darcy realized they had been swaying to a fast song. The music had changed, and she hadn’t even noticed. Maybe tagging along to this wedding with Jane wasn’t such a bad idea after all.