Masquerade

By Wesa

Series: War of the Worlds

Category: Snapshot

Rating: G

Disclaimer: All War of the Worlds characters and concepts belong to Strangis & Strangis and Paramount. I don't own them (although if they want to sell, I'd certainly be interested in buying the rights to Paul Ironhorse...on second thought, I probably don't have enough money. Sigh).

Note: This story arises out of a discussion in the RC List chat room.

By Wesa.

"No, Colonel, your walk is all wrong," Mrs. Pennyworth told him.

He looked at her, perplexed. "What's wrong with it?" he asked.

"Nothing, if you're Colonel Ironhorse," Coleman said quickly.

"But no alien is going to fall for this masquerade if you stalk around like you normally do," Suzanne agreed. "A woman's skeleton is constructed differently than a man's," she added. "Men walk from their hips, but women walk from their waists."

Paul stared at her. "Suzanne, I know enough basic physiology to know that's not physically possible," he objected.

"It's how it really is, Paul," she retorted. She stood up, fussing with her costume. "No, it's no good. I can't show him in this getup. Kasey, come over here."

Coleman crossed the room, and Suzanne took her by the shoulders and turned her to face back the other way. "Look, Paul," Suzanne continued, "when a woman takes a step, her pelvis drops down then swings forward as she moves her leg. It extends the stride and increases walking efficiency. Men don't do it because their hip joints are closer together. You're already pretty efficient walkers, and this sort of movement wouldn't help you much because your hips aren't as wide. Walk normally, Kasey. Don't exaggerate, but don't underplay it either."

Paul watched his aide walk across the living room at the Cottage, wishing he could make Harrison or Stavrakos do this. He'd never paid much attention before, but Coleman did have an attractive sway to her walk. "I can't do that barefoot; I certainly can't do it in these shoes. And I wouldn't if I could." He swung the annoyingly long black hair of his wig back behind his shoulder. "I don't swish."

"Harrison has the flu and Norton can't walk. You're the only man left who's slender enough to get into that dress," Suzanne pointed out.

"Be grateful I have such big feet, sir," Coleman advised. "Otherwise we would have had to buy you heels. I wouldn't like to have to justify that expense."

"Going shopping might have been fun, though," Mrs. Pennyworth commented.

"I had to shave my chest, legs and underarms," Paul complained, looking down the deeply vee'd neckline of the evening gown he wore.

All three women glared at him. "If you're looking for sympathy in this room, Paul," Suzanne told him, "forget it."

"The man who invented pantyhose should be shot."

"I agree," Suzanne said. "Know who he is?"

"That's why I joined the Army," Coleman said.

"To shoot the man who invented pantyhose?" Mrs. Pennyworth asked. "Before pantyhose, we had to wear girdles or garters. Believe me, dear, pantyhose are an improvement."

"Actually it was so I wouldn't have to wear them," Coleman corrected mildly, "but shooting him isn't a bad idea."

"This mustache tickles and the hip-hugger pants are too tight," Suzanne said, but I have to agree, I got the better end of the deal."

"There is one more thing you need, Colonel," Mrs. Pennyworth said, reaching into the pocket of her skirt. "Women don't have Adam's apples; you'll need to disguise that."

"How?" he wondered.

She drew out a sparkling diamonds-and-lace choker. "This should compliment your gown," she said, reaching up to fasten it around his throat. "What do you think, ladies?"

Coleman nodded soberly, though Paul could tell she was repressing a smile. Suzanne grinned under her black mop-top wig and fake mustache. "I think we'll be fine as long as no one asks us to sing," she said.

That was too much for Coleman, and she quickly asked to be excused. As she went down the hallway, Ironhorse heard her murmur, "Don't let him get hold of you. And I want a copy." Before he could investigate, though, Mrs. Pennyworth had sat him down in a chair so she could touch up his makeup.

"I feel like a fool," he told Suzanne.

"You think I don't?" she asked. "At least you look terrific."

"A Sonny-n-Cher party," he groused. "What would the aliens want at a Sonny-n-Cher party?"

Suzanne smiled up at him as they both stood up. "Come on, or we'll be late," she told him, turning him toward the door.

The flash of a camera momentarily blinded him, but he could hear Debi's giggle and the electric buzz of Norton's wheelchair.

"Run, Norton!" Debi cried, laughing.

"Norton! Debi!" Paul thundered threateningly.

"I'll see to it that you get a copy, too, Paul," Suzanne told him soothingly.

"Civilians. I'm surrounded by civilians," Paul muttered, striding ahead of Suzanne to their rented convertible.

"Put me down for a copy, too, dear," Mrs. Pennyworth told Suzanne in a low voice.