Gerard tossed Spencer the top hat and surveyed the total effect -- bloody fantastic, if he said so himself, but a whip, man, a whip would really just make the outfit. He started digging through the cabinet by his bed -- fuck, that riding crop was somewhere. He could have sworn he'd kept it with his chaps, but nooo. And then he groaned and snatched his wand off the table.
"Some wizard I am, Merlin. Accio riding crop," Gerard said, shaking his head at himself, and something came zooming out from under the bed and smacked into his palm. Gerard examined it, frowning a bit. Mikey was way better at this kind of thing than him, but he'd looked rather toasted at the end of the feast, and Gerard suspected he hadn't gotten any more sober over time. Well, Gerard was pretty sure he could manage a whip on his own. He prodded the leather crop with his wand, and by the time he was finished he was pretty pleased. Long black leather ending in a small tassle with shimmering black threads worked into the soft fringe, the handle embossed in red.
"And you're done!" Gerard said grandly, passing the whip over to Spencer. "Fit to tame lions, or snakes, or, y'know, whichever manner of man or woman you see fit."
Oh, fuck, right, his own costume.
"No," Gerard said regretfully, taking a last swig of the apple-brandy-Christmas-concoction and then passing the bottle to Spencer, pleased to see the make-up remain on Spencer's mouth instead of the bottle rim. Best charm ever, seriously. "No glitter for me this time. Maybe at the next staff meeting, though, yeah?" Sometimes he put on a bit if he needed to feel extra snazzy during a long night patrol -- the students never really commented on it, although once he'd seen Prim do a satisfying double-take. He liked to think it'd been admiring, but you never really knew with Prim.
He toed off his trainers and padded over to his wardrobe, pulling out the suit he'd gotten in a muggle shop in Italy last summer, Brioni or something. He'd been working with some American agents and, okay, had gotten a little jealous over their totally bitchin' suits. So he'd blown some of his inheritance money and bought his own. This particular suit was slate gray silk, and pretty fucking sharp if he did say so himself. He dressed quickly, tucked his badge in his vest pocket and holstered his gun at his ankle -- Muggle weapons were so cool. He slid on a pair of black sunglasses and slipped a pair of handcuffs in his back pocket.
"Special Agent Gerard Way at your service," he told Spencer, who had been watching the process with interest. He flashed a decidedly wolfish smile. "What d'you think, we ready to party?"