Halloween, if you asked Irene, was for camp. (And cleavage, but that was most days for her.) And while she had toyed with the idea of leaning further into camp and just outright silliness, she'd ultimately gone with something that toed the line nicely.

A long, slinky red dress was selected from Irene's closet (don't check the label; it was way too spendy to be repurposed as a Halloween costume), along with a few liberal (ahem) enhancements to her bust and hips for extra effect. Some carefully-applied makeup, a red wig, some gloves that probably wouldn't last the whole night if she had enough drinks to find them an annoyance, and a lot of dress tape later, and Irene found herself wandering into a house she hadn't been in in years dressed as a cartoon lounge singer.

Complete with a cigarette holder that she, politely, would not light indoors.