"I thought you said you weren't going to come." Lisa's voice at his elbow was a welcome reprieve from the thirty-third repetition of Michael Jackson's Thriller blasting from the sound system.
Eyes still on the crowd of neighbors jostling each other for elbow room on the patio, Dean tipped his beer into his mouth, let the bottle rest on his bottom lip when he was done, unhurried in his response. "I wasn't."
"Mhm." He could almost feel the vibration of her hum, so close to his arm. "And just what is your costume?"
The corner of his lip twisted in a cocky display of attitude. "I don't do costumes."
"Costume required," Lisa reminded.
Dean exhaled quietly, lowering his nearly empty drink and tapping it gently against his thigh. "Then I'm your typical, middle aged, tax-payer in America. Terrifying I know." Finally, he brought his eyes down to rest on Lisa. "But what about you?"
Lisa gestured to her sweater and slacks."We went as the same monster."
Leaning down, Dean whispered, "You wanna get out of here?"
"I've got the babysitter paid up through midnight."