He'd borrowed a late 19th century style suit - the kind with the cravats and the frock-coats - from the old geezer and judging from the smell when he picked it up, it might have been an original one. He'd had it cleaned, adjusted to fit him, slapped a simple black mask on his face and showed up, twirling a cane. Deimos was here somewhere too, but had refused to tell his twin what he would be wearing. Truth be told, it wouldn't matter, because Deimos would give himself away just by being himself.
Phobos arrived when the room was already full of people and right now there was no blood on the polished floors so people were probably having a good time. Awesome.
He grabbed a drink and walked around, catching bits and pieces of conversation here and there, while he slipped the word 'carrot' in every now and then. What? He'd said he would and it wasn't as if it was something extremely obscene or outrageous.