It all went as usual, Frank mingled and flirted, pouted and preened, danced and teased… but something was still wrong. He wandered over to Magenta who was flicking her feather duster at a stuffed vulture's head. She looked up at him with disinterest. "Do… do I look … different to you tonight?" he inquired hesitantly. She gave him the once over and he followed her eyes nervously. "No," she shrugged and went back to poking the vulture. Frank sighed in relief. He patted her confidentially on the shoulder and went back amongst the guests.
A couple of hours later the inevitable had happened, he had known it would, no matter how strange he felt his winning … personality would always pull through. He led back on his bed, head resting on his neatly folded arms, feeling eager hands paw at his corset and legs. He knew this was fun. He wanted it to be fun. But he didn't feel like he was having fun. He sighed and looked down at the bodies writhing around him and realised they didn't actually care whether he interacted with them or not, as long as he didn't stop them. He frowned at this thought, he, Prince Frank N. Furter, treated like a piece of meat? … What a lovely idea… He chuckled. Suddenly his eyes widened and he had to reach down to slap away a far too intrusive hand, whose 'skills' left a lot to be desired. "O really" he muttered, "you must be more careful" he warned the offender, who nodded enthusiastically and continued his pursuits in a gentler manner. Frank sighed again and laid back, letting his playmates continue their games…