Dance floor, but nearer the bar: Lin/Sam/Tess
It was definitely hella diff dressing up to go somewhere fancy as a girl than a boy. There was much more time involved. Not that Lin went cheap before, without a glance in the mirror or anything, bc haha fucking no, but he didn't (often) put on makeup or 'do' his hair. He smiled at himself in the mirror, maybe winked and pointed, and left. So, yeah, it took him some time to get ready tonight, because he was going proverbially balls to the wall (ovaries to the wall...?), but he didn't give a fuck. And when he came out the other side, liquids and smears and things applied (and removed and reapplied), he looked bombastic, if he did say so himself. Which he did. Sure, he still referred to himself as a 'he,' but gender was fluid af and, besides, it wasn't like anyone could read his self-meta, right?
Though his regular style was semi-gender neutral and could easily be fitted to this form, the boy decided to do something outside of his comfort zone. He'd gone to one of those fancy-ass lady stores and let the woman with the tailor's tape do the thing the birds and mice do in Cinderella. He let her tell him all about his skintone and being suited to warm colors, and then he picked from a small array of outfits offered. He chose red. The dress itself was flowy and weirdly mystical. In fact, it was less a dress and more a crop top and skirt. And he looked fly-ass. Hair oiled coils of black, nails matching the dress, makeup semi-understated which was also a new thing for him, if you can believe it.
He was maybe a touch nervous about showing up somewhere he knew people—like, in-person people—in this new... er... form. Because now people would know and he'd been sure not to mention a damn thing to anyone but Daniel (and it wasn't as if Daniel even really knew. Dude didn't believe him and likely forgot in his opium stupor). So there was some fidgeting, nervous adjusting of bangles, and the twisting of ruby silk between fingers, but he managed to keep a pretty good lid on his anxiety.—Staying with Louis was going fine, but he'd run out of his meds a long time ago, and that was going less fine. He supposed he could self-medicate like cough-cough some people, but that didn't interest Lin. Not as much as the prospect of a joyous occasion + a place to get drunk + maybe sex.
After scooping up Sam and her surprise sister, and after the ceremony, Lin felt a little better about things. After a couple neon drinks were slammed back without the learned grace of a woman who looked like he did, his nerves were less a jangle. His voice, which he was still getting used to, was light, almost an inadvertent purr whenever he spoke—which made the whole juxtaposition with his vocab that much funnier. (As much as his own very deep voice did.)
"Yoooo. I thought Gotham people would get down hard and turn up, man. These people don't even know how to dance." Lin sighed, his disappointment evident in a pout of painted lips. He leaned on his hip, the jut expert. "We should show these people how it's done, ya feel?"