"V, we need to talk."

Uh-oh, that couldn't be good. Evey had been spending a lot of time with the new government, despite V's insistence that she lay off the work now that she was pregnant. He was being a bit over protective, acting like Evey was the first person to have a child.

"Yes, Eve?" V asked, setting the book he was reading on his lap

"It's about the gala next week. . .Finch just told me that the party wants the father by my side. They want Vincent at the gala with me. According to them, the public is beginning to wonder if Vincent exists since they have never seen me with any man besides Finch."

V laughed outright, doubling over in the chair.

"Oooh" he said, sitting back upright "Evey, you act as if you're asking me to walk around London au naturel."

"I. . .I thought you might be angry."

"Eve, no one will know me. It's not like I'm going to show up like this." he motioned toward his attire "No one will ever know."

"Ugh, I hate wearing a dress." I said, looking away from the wide-screen 'Vincent' had installed in the new house. "Can we have an informal after party here? All the gala is going to be is a bunch of stuffy politicians drinking and congratulating each other on their success."

VEV

Jaylyn and I had to resort to rock-paper-scissors to decide who would drive--and inadvertently which car--to the gala. Little did V know, we were planning on forcing he and Evey to take the other. Why not show up in style? I won, which meant we would be taking the GTO. Little did anyone but myself know, I was driving the Chevelle home.

Evey looked beautiful, V was drop dead sexy as always, Jaylyn looked like a human being, and I think I might just pass for a girl. Woo-hoo! All the way to the gala, Jaylyn and I kept fucking with V and Evey by being stupid. At one point we pulled up beside them and spelled 'YMCA' with our arms. My favorite though was a major movie-quote-nerd moment.

I eased up beside the Chevelle, again, and motioned for Evey to roll down her window.

"Pardon me," I shouted across to her "do you have any Grey Poupon?"

Evey looked at me in confusion while V smacked his forehead with one hand. Clearly, he got it. I rolled my window back up and slid back behind their car, laughing my ass off. Oh, I love Wayne's World and making fun of 80s commercials.

I was right about the gala being extremely boring. Thankfully Evey had managed to work in an after party at the house. Everyone invited was called (Not by us, that was some other sucker's job considering there was over 200 people) and informed that 'a casual dance would follow the gala' and anyone over twelve was invited.

Needless to say, most of the politicians didn't have kids that were under twenty to thirty years old. Jaylyn and I led the way back to the house. . .sort of. Everyone had to follow V and Evey because I was seeing how fast I could get going by the time we got home. So maybe I've got a speeding problem. . .

We headed straight to our rooms--which are side by side- and changed into something more suitable for dancing; everyone else would be shown into spare rooms to change. I walked out of my room in a blue off-the-shoulder mini dress, charcoal leggings, a wide brown belt, and red flats. Jaylyn, I was slightly horrified to see, was in a hot pink and black flapper mini dress and white go-go boots. She was half naked.

Apparently when we said causal they thought we meant Sunday best. Oh geez. Most were in khakis and polo shirts, the girls were in yet another formal dress. They were going to be uncomfortable and sweating their asses off by the end of the night.

The dance was in what was more than likely at one point the ball room. V used it as a fencing room, Jaylyn and I used it for sock-skating. But, shhh! V doesn't know. He also doesn't know we're the reason Barbie--who was moved here from the Gallery--has a huge dent in the breastplate that is suspiciously shaped like the end of a cookie sheet. That's a long story you don't want to know.

The balcony that should house a band had the best DJ money could get, courtesy of Sutler and Creedy. I don't think they mind, they're probably even glad to give their money to the cause. Everyone was already in the ballroom when Jaylyn and I threw open the doors.

Now, the party don't start 'til I walk in

Don't stop, make it pop
DJ, blow my speakers up
Tonight, I'mma fight
'Til we see the sunlight
Tick tock on the clock
But the party don't stop, no

Everyone turned to stare at Jaylyn and I, the room was dead silent. Hmm, no party. I didn't know if it was just the fact that they'd never heard this music, or if they were just really nervous but very few people joined us in dancing. I marched up to the DJ and grabbed the mike he had.

"Alright people, listen up! This is ridiculous, it's a dance. Not even a formal one. Go with the beat, people. Move. Dance. Do something besides stand there."

So they talked. Oh my freaking god, really?

I found Jaylyn standing with V, er Vincent, eyeing a guy over by the table filled with the best pop still being made. Why Vincent was there, I have no idea.

"Ain't he related to Creedy, Vincent?"

"That he is."

Jaylyn didn't seem to mind as said guy--who was, I admit, really cute--caught her look and winked.

"Rah-rah-ah-ah-ah!
Roma-Roma-ma-ah!
Ga-ga-ooh-la-la!
Watch out bad romance" I murmured to Jaylyn, changing the lyrics slightly to instill a warning.

"I want your ugly
I want your disease" She stopped singing and looked at me "Oh, wait, we weren't singing."

I sighed. No, Jaylyn, we were not. And once again you miss the point entirely. She skipped off, dragging a few teenagers with her to dancing. One poor boy had the misfortune to be her partner in a club dance. That poor, poor boy. He looked terrified.

"Vincent," I sighed "how long will it take for them to realize we are not, in fact, Norsefire?"

"Of course it will take an exceptional amount of time for the populi to accede the end of fascism's reign and embrace anarchy. However the Vox populi shall shout its accedence upon the escape of the cage through the open door."

I nodded and stood there for a moment.

"And just what the hell does that mean?"

"They'll figure it out eventually."

"Oh, right. Gotcha."

Your kisses lift me higher
Like the sweet song of a choir
You light my morning sky
With burning love
Burning love

I started swaying along with the ending strains of Elvis. I watched V the entire time, loving being able to see his reaction.

(Hunk, a hunk of burning love)
I'm just a hunk, a hunk of burning love
Just a hunk, a hunk of burning love
Just a hunk, a hunk of burning love
Just a hunk, a hunk of burning love

Just a hunk, a hunk of burning love
Just a hunk, a hunk of burning love
Just a hunk, a hunk of burning love

V blushed bright red, spun on his heel, and nearly ran out of the room. I could help but laugh.

A/N Songs used (in order)
YMCA -- The Village People (Ok, it was mentioned)
Tik Tok -- Ke$ha
Bad Romance -- Lady Gaga
Burning Love -- Elvis Presley

To get why V was blushing over Elvis, you must re-read the beginning of ATGAAT. Chapter four, in particular. It probably won't make much sense without having read the first three, so you might as well read them too. I've updated them, making them flow better. Which has created lots of new inside jokes. For less confusion later I suggest you read them. Please? I'll beg.

Now on to slightly depressing news. Lady Nightlord has left us! (Or at least stopped reviewing) I have no funny/entertaining comments in my inbox anymore. V even misses her a little. -sniff- Oh, and I have sworn off guys, everyone one. Yep. No guys for Miss Cullen. I'll be a crazy old cat lady that lives in a cardboard box in Runon Sheilds's backyard and teach her children to love men in masks -starry gaze for a moment- and sing Phantom of the Opera horribly out of tune and off key.

V: Does that mean I can leave?
Phantom of the Opera: Me too?
Edward Scissorhands: And me?
Mr. Darcy: And me, Miss?
Sweeney Todd: Can Sweeney leave?
Edward Cullen: I'd like to see Bella. . .
Me: NO!! ALL OF YOU BACK IN YOUR HOLES!! Except Cullen, he's badly written. He'll be moving to a hole full of werewolves as punishment for Stephenie Meyer's terrible writing no matter how awesome (Although curiously without much of a personality) he is.

No flames for the Twilight bashing! You must admit, it's true if you think about it.

Anyway, I'm swearing off guys for one reason and one reason only. Well, two. They're stupid. And they fuck with your mind. I've a friend who's seemed to like me since last year and I've liked him. No biggy. Miss Cullen just asks him out, right? Wrong. I've no idea how to go about it. We've been friends for years which should make it easier. Again, wrong. I have absolutely no experience in this whatsoever. None. Zilch. Nada.

I've been (finally) getting up the courage to ask him out all week. Until a friend popped my bubble. -Pop!- He dated this girl (who he hates because she's super annoying, stuck up, and an all around bitch) in November/December and they broke up before Christmas. They're dating again. No biggy, right, he doesn't really like her? Wrong.

I was playing with his phone (It's a touch screen one. No, I didn't break it) and a text from her showed up. I wasn't being nosey. Honestly. I was trying to hit Ignore so I could continue my gane and hit View by accident. Reflex made me read. Basically it said: "omg I luv u so much. y we hide it? tell dat gurl u hang out w/ to leave u alone. u r mine."

I'm going to kill her slowly before jumping off a cliff.