CHAPTER ONE: And the Banister is Sticky!

Shit...

Magenta couldn't keep from wincing at the sound of his voice, attempting to comfort the anxious ridden woman; his now newly engaged fiancé. Gag. But Magenta doesn't give a rats ass about that...

"This way," Riff Raff led the way further into the castle for their unexpected guests.

She kept her head ducked low, leaning it on her arms that wrapped around the railing of the grand stairwell. She held a feather duster that she never really used before until tonight. The master insisted on her keeping up with appearances and to "actually do some damn cleaning for once" while they had some very well known guests over.

"Are you having a party?" The Janet asked shyly.

Magenta almost snorted at the question but succeeded not too.

"You've arrived on a rather special night. It's one of the masters affairs." Riff Raff answered in his condescending tone of his. Magenta did smirk at that.

"Oh, lucky him." Magenta could actually hear her smile in that pathetic statement. She decided to make her stellar-and hopefully intimidating-debut at this particular moment.

"You're lucky, he's lucky, I'm lucky, we're all lucky!" She howled in laughter, getting a kick out of finally making an excuse to slide down the banister. She's been wanting to do that for a while.

She immediately noticed his intense gaze again. This time, more out of surprise and confusion. But there's hardly any time to think about that now, because Riff has started singing, and she's got to concentrate on keeping up this game of theirs.

Getting closer to him isn't really helping the situation much, and is he smiling at her? She's trying to mime eccentric-ism (but let's face it, she doesn't really have to mime it because she's just as eccentric as they come) but he's seeing her as a joke, practically. Magenta feels offended about this, but in reality there isn't enough time for that either. Riff's coming at her with his arms ready in motion, and she perfectly closes the gap between their hands. Like clockwork, their elbow touch remains to be a force to be reckoned with. Chasing them towards the grand ball room is exciting and amusing, and watching their shocked reactions to all of their fellow trannies is putting a damn spring in her step. Now this is what Magenta came down to Earth to do; indulge into it's human culture, then to expose it to their culture in return. Being a witness and participant to this show and tell is worth all the trouble. Maybe.

Their beloved Time Warp has ended and Magenta wants nothing more than to relive it all over again. To maybe watch his face much more closely than she already did, just to make sure he enjoyed that as much as he seemed to. But, why does that matter? It's the Time Warp; of course every being enjoys that. Best fucking pass time in the galaxy, she thinks.

Now this human guy isn't even trying to hide his entitlement, because suggesting things like the Madison and calling this folk dancing is not shedding a nice light on them at the moment. Janet is obviously not helping with that either. Fucking earthlings. Magenta has only really encountered very few in the three earth years that she's been here.

Columbia, of course, for the most part. She's been a part of this castle for almost two, but it feels like more. That could be taken as both a good thing and a bad thing. At first the cheery girl was too cheery. Always squeaking and squawking about. Following Magenta around like a pet that's lost its owner and now in search of a new one. And those damn tap shoes. Tapping away so much, that she might as well practice her tapping on Magenta's head, from all of those headaches she gets anyways. Magenta enjoys it from time to time, but when it's a constant hobby for the earthling, she can't help but want to zap her with the antimatter ray gun. But surprisingly, they practical child grew on her. She became a trusted confident for Magenta, someone she can talk to about female stuff. Because when you've lived with two men for a while, seeing another body with tits and a vagina can turn out to be comforting and a much needed release.

(The fucking was an added bonus, but that came later.)

Eddie was a less of a journey. They had ordered pizza one night and he brought it over. He kept coming back after that for either Columbia or Frank. Sometimes both. He seemed nice and un-intimidating so Magenta kept out of his way and vise versa.

Other than that, Magenta hasn't really had to deal with humans in such a close encounter or proximity. She's technically been around lots and lots, but to interact with them? Not at all.

And when Frank took his leave by using the lift after his grand entrance, and Brad looked like he had the life sucked out of him (in a good way), Magenta thought that maybe it was time to change that.

...

She looks familiar...

Is all he can think about.

The blood painted wild hair and heavily applied makeup is throwing him off, however. And that voice... He's fucking shivering now because of it. Janet is shaking in his arms, and she keeps falling over, and he doesn't know why; it's not like these people have tried to hurt them as of yet. Oh. But nonetheless, they're here and much dryer and warmer than they would've been waiting in the car. And it's just a party, Janet, for Christ sakes.

Despite all of the movements going on, and all of the questions he could think about or ask, his eyes keep drifting to the gothic woman. She seems to be a domestic, if the lousy job at dusting wasn't an indicator, her uniform sure is. She's wearing a black button up dress (a few top bottoms undone...not that he's noticed...), a white apron wrapped around her, black stockings, and black heels. Her nails and lips are painted in homage to her flaming red locks, he guesses. She's rather petite and fairly short, even with the heels. But to her credit, the spikes barely get her soles off of the floor anyways.

They've finally finished whatever they were doing, all collapsing to the ground collectively like some kind of cult. It's interesting and kinda frightening all at the same time, but someone's got to keep sane and it sure as hell won't be Janet. It's just a party, Janet. And now she's fainted again. A man...in woman's clothing? Or lingerie? It's something with a corset and fishnets...

He's eyes are bulging out of his sockets and to his slight relief (disappointment?) it's not to do with the vampy woman who has had a hold on his attention so far this whole time.

"But not the symptoms!" He slams the lift shut and is carried away from their sight. The applause is well deserved because hell, what a performance.

Now there's someone stripping him. And not just someone but her. It's strange to realize how most of your life you spend times thinking about how someone, like Janet, might feel against your almost bare skin, how their hands may feel brushing against your torso or arms; then to have all of those thoughts vanish at the exact moment when you feel another's actual touch. Her hands are pretty fucking soft, too. What was her name?

He later finds out it's Magenta and he concludes that that is his new favorite name.