[ Spike for one did not bother dressing up. Sure, he might've gone for a fresh layer of black nailpolish but that is it — the theme is come as you'd like to be and he's pretty damn happy with who he is, thank you very much.
Like always he's skulking in the shadows, nursing a beer and watching the crowd. There may be blood later in the evening but for now he's more than content with doing what he can to get himself moderately plastered and un-thinking. Not that he was thinking in the first place. Oh no. There are no thoughts.
It takes a moment before he recognizes Claire but once he does he doesn't waste any time before sliding up behind her, leaning in to whisper close to that closed off helmet.]