All things considered, the Fishers (yes, plural) were wearing a lot more cloth than Vincent had expected. Though Cordelia's dressing held a sort of ethereal elegance attached to it, giving a message of a glamorous presence, Isiah's costume's message was more bold in terms of where his priorities were for the night. In a storm of vulgar to spooky dressed people, the top of his golden head was easy to spot when it was the only one devious enough to make a pass at his bouncer. Nimble fingers, close proximity, and his warm breath on the neck of his employee, his methods of seduction were becoming all too familiar.
A snakish smile weaseled its way onto his face when Dominic, the bouncer, lifted his face and his eyes stared into the holes of his pumpkin head. He couldn't see the smile on Vince's face, but he was well aware he wouldn't have a job if he left his station to curry favor with Isiah Fisher. Vincent made no secret he didn't want his men associating with the minx dressed up as a noble. He was a nuisance and a bitter after taste Vince couldn't get rid of. Even if he did let Cordero go, though. It was partially spite that kept the man under his employment anyway.
Dominic left and Isiah blew him a kiss. An unwelcome one, but unwelcome company was something the Fisher was excellent at giving. Vincent rolled his eyes, relieved that the pumpkin head prevented him or anyone else from seeing it. Though that relief was short lived and replaced with his heart stuttering at the new but familiar voice.
Vince turned around to face his daughter, small in size but grown in every other aspect. He grinned at her face made of clown makeup and responded as he removed his pumpkin head.
"As if I ever tell you about anyone I get into bed with," he snorted. Though Vince wasn't one to get into bed with anyone and not often. His last excursion still made his heart thump with a dull and uncomfortable ache. But that was more information he wouldn't divulge his daughter with.
Despite having head piece to his costume, Vince did not skimp on the makeup in the case he would go without it, having a gothic look like that of Tim Burton character, with smokey tired eyes and defined lines. Of course, his hair had been done, though it was down and not in its usual style. It was mildly uncomfortable but easy to forget when he was standing with Anais who hadn't seen in what felt like years.
"Besides I'd sooner castrate myself then end up in a bed with him." Vince was barely able to contain his snort.
"That," he gestured to the blond with his head,
"is Dionysus's pest problem. I'll deal with him properly sooner or later though."
Vincent dropped his pumpkin head into the table where his drink sat and pulled Anais into a tight embrace, squeezing his arms around her and pressing his cheeks into hers. There were rare moments where Vince's heart pounded with excitement and even rarer moments where it didn't force him to be aware of his surroundings. At that moment, all he cared about was holding the woman he called his child.
"I've missed you. You have to tell me where you've been, what you've done, and what you've procured." He said laughingly, and reluctantly pulled back from their hug, tapping her playfully as he did.
"Everything is boring when you're not around."
