Damian and Open
Damian had spent the afternoon watching as the various booths and decorations were put up. The entire process had been mildly interesting even if the result were rather, well, hokey. It was a far cry from his father's usual formal affairs and Damian couldn't honestly say he understood why.
As he understood the holiday (or the current bastardized version of such), Damian expected things to be considerably darker. Instead, things were bright and barely held any hint of malice at all.
He'd done his duty earlier, standing by the entrance and welcoming guests as they arrived. It hadn't even been two weeks since his run in with Doom but there was only the barest hint that he wasn't feeling 100%.
He was dressed simply in a suit styled from the turn of the century. It was dark brown with a waistcoat, overcoat and matching tie and breeches. Underneath a pressed white shirt and light stockings finished off the outfit and made it stand out for the period piece it was. Perfectly fitting for a little vicomte.
(It was considerably better than the sailor suits the London production had been fond of. Clearly, the Australian version had a better sense of aesthetic.)
He was speaking with just a trace of a French accent, appropriate for the setting rather than the source material. But, as he soon found out, even that clue did little to enlighten people and Damian continually had to explain the costume. Gustave from 'Love Never Dies'. He would have thought it obvious, given who his father had chosen to dressed as.
Finally, he'd given up on the affair and wandered towards the game stall where people were laughing and trying their luck, though very few of them seemed to be succeeding.