The company's Halloween Party was already in full swing when the vampire entered. All manner of ghosts, ghoulies, and even a witch had been lured into the office by the promise of a prize for the best costume - and of course, free alcohol, near-universally desired. One enterprising soul was even wearing a jack-o-lantern on their head, which raised some complex logistical questions regarding the free alcohol.

 

The vampire was wearing a cravat, coupled with a pinstriped waistcoat. A silver fob watch chain hung across their front, leading to a pocket watch in their vest pocket. A cloak draped over their shoulders, a pair of round crimson glasses sat across their nose, and shiny black claws adorned their fingers. Nobody took especial notice of them, beyond the occasional compliment at their outfit.

 

The vampire ended up in conversation with one of their colleagues, a zombie from Operations who was clearly already a bit tipsy. The green makeup that adorned their face couldn't entirely hide the telltale flush that accompanied the beer in their hand. "So," they said, "what's your favourite part of these parties?"

 

"Oh," replied the vampire, "I'd have to say it's getting to be myself for a bit."

 

"Not the drinks?" The zombie asked, one eyebrow raised, clinking their beer against the vampire's glass of dark red - wine, one would presume.

 

"Well," the vampire said, with a flash of elongated canine, "they're certainly a selling point."

 

A moment of silence, the conversation stalled for a moment. "So what're you supposed to be?"

 

The vampire sputtered as they accidentally aspirated some of their drink. They stared incredulously at the zombie. "You can't guess?" they asked, waving their hand over their outfit.

 

"Hmmmm," the zombie squinted. "A... leprechaun?"

 

"A leprechaun?! I'm a *vampire!*"

 

"Huh, I thought vampires were supposed to be all sparkly."

 

The vampire's eye twitched. And then a thought occurred to them. And the temptation proved just a little too hard to resist.

 

"There's something you might not know about vampires, with your... limited understanding of them." The vampire grinned tightly, an over-exaggerated expression that showed their teeth, and put one in mind of a hunting dog let off the leash.

 

"Hey, are those teeth fake? They look really good, they fit in well!" The zombie's brow creased. "Wait, aren't your teeth like that all the..."

 

"If you want to know, just *look into my eyes*," the vampire said, their voice shifting a register lower and getting smoother, easier to listen to. They slid their crimson glasses down their nose, staring intently over the lenses.

 

"Well, what's... that supposed to... do..." the zombie said, already stumbling over their words as they looked.

 

"Why, it's supposed to hypnotise you. That's what looking into a vampire's eyes does to you. Just as you're doing now."

 

"I- but you're not-"

 

"Yes, that's right, I'm not *actually* a vampire, so there's no danger in just continuing to look."

 

The zombie was only dimly aware of the rest of the party, their focus narrowing onto the vampire's eyes. Nobody seemed to notice their plight though - they supposed to outside eyes, they must just have looked like they were fascinated by the conversation. They were barely aware of their body, just the sensation of it tingling numb as they kept looking into those *fascinating* eyes...

 

The zombie's thoughts melted away in the face of the vampire's crimson stare, as thoroughly as butter melting in a red-hot saucepan. The vampire admired the zombie - their handiwork - taking in the slack shoulders, the slightly-parted lips, the glassy eyes.

 

Then, heedless of the party around them, too committed to remember to keep up the masquerade, the vampire surged in and *bit*. Their fangs sunk into the zombie's green painted neck, drinking greedily.

 

The vampire pulled back, satisfied. And then, in a flash of clarity, suddenly became aware of the eyes of the entire party on them. The vampire froze. They *might* be able to hypnotise them all, but there was too much chance of someone realising and escaping...

 

The sound of slow claps echoed into the silence. The vampire turned to look at the witch, eyebrow raised sarcastically, an amused look on their face. "Well, looks like *someone* committed to the bit - even getting fake blood, and an accomplice. How much time did you spend setting all this up?"

 

The vampire blinked rapidly in confusion, then a sudden smile broke across their face. "I *may* have spent all last weekend, and giving our zombie here a bit of a bribe. Isn't that right?"

 

"Yeah..." the zombie drawled. Then they shook their head and cleared their throat, blinking rapidly. "That's right!" They agreed, enthusiastically. The vampire would have put it at a coin toss that the zombie knew *what* they were actually agreeing to.

 

The rest of the party didn't seem to notice though, and after some good-natured chuckles, the conversation restarted.

 

*That was way, **way** too close*, the vampire thought. But then a grin flashed across their face. *But very, **very** fun*.

 

"Sorry, must have zoned out," the zombie apologised. "What were we talking about?"

 

An easy grin on their face, the vampire replied "I'm pretty sure it was our favourite bits of these parties..."

 

 

The zombie received a number of congratulations afterwards, as well as a couple of wink-wink-nudge-nudge questions about what the vampire gave them to take part in that performance. Their confusion at the questions merely led to grins from their interlocutors at how good an actor the zombie was.

 

The vampire won the prize for the best costume - after the whole scene with the zombie, nobody questioned either what the costume was or their commitment to the supposed bit. When everyone came in the next week, the vampire had a new habit of asking for one-on-one meetings. People swore to their productivity, despite coming out of the meetings looking oddly pale and dazed.