Barclay and Leon
Like Leon, Barclay had barely made any concessions to the theme of the dance. Unlike Leon, he didn't blend in naturally. The Brit, with his pasty white complexion that defied all sunlight, looked more like a moody teenage tourist than a proper islandgoer. Barclay had simply put on a dark blue t-shirt and some low-riding chucks. He had, however, put on a pair of shorts that were of such a non-descript color they had to be beige.
Nevertheless, he was impressed by the ballroom. It really looked like some sort of jungle paradise where some insipid pop queen could song about the power of independence or whatever. "It's humid in here," Barclay said. "I'm thinking the girls with the more elaborate hairstyles won't particularly enjoy it."
Barclay raised an eyebrow when Leon decorated him, and raised both when Leon made his joke. "Okay, for that joke alone, I should leave you alone right now. Instead, you'll get me a drink." Barclay gave the room a quick glance. He added, joking once more: "Lots of people here. It's a wonder you couldn't get any other date than me."