They're late. Henry stops to change in a nearby hotel, and he swears Pez is tearing his hair out in frustration- both at Henry's choice of suit; a sensible piece, dark blue with a bright coppery-mustard tie in a narrow cut- and at the time.

"We'll be fashionably late,'' Henry reminds him- to which Pez responds that there's a difference between being fashionably late and missing the whole damn party. Henry only stifles a small, nervous smile and straightens his tie.

Pez preens himself in the mirror- Henry almost has to avert his eyes from his outfit; tight jeans and the most blindingly colourful silk imaginable, carved into the shape of a large bomber jacket and painted over with a bold floral print that reminds Henry of a trip to an African rainforest, for a fundraiser he'd been dragged into years ago.

***

He'd perched on a small dais and given a long, rambling speech provided for him by his publicists. It had been only months after his dad had died, and his words had been stumbling- hesitant and empty. Hollow.

***

Now, he swallows back the lump in his throat and gives Pez a weak smile. Pez scans Henry's outfit once more- frowns, then shrugs and throws his hands in the air.

"Hopeless. That's what you are. No fashion sense to speak of- and couldn't you have at latest gone for a more exciting tie?"

"What's wrong with it?" Henry bristles. He thinks the tie is nice- he picked it out because he's sure Alex would like it. The First Son is hardly one for boring clothing. Alex is hardly one for anything boring, really. He himself definitely isn't.

Spurred on by thoughts of Alex, Henry allows Pez to haul him back to the car, then to the White House again.

It blots out the dimming sun, an imposing silhouette, stark against the pink-tinged sky. Pez grins at him, and Henry starts to laugh as he swoops into a low bow and mimes holding an invisible door open for Henry.

They pass through the doorway together, and Henry's laughter dies in his throat.

The corridors are crammed- packed to tipping point with people, milling around in all manner of bright clothing, the latest fashions, and elaborate hairstyles. Photographers lurk in every shadowy corner, or trail after celebrities like lost puppies.

A bright flash from a camera blinds Henry for a moment, and by the time he's blinked, the crowd has closed in around him and he's lost in a sea of bodies. He realises belatedly that they haven't even reached the East Room yet- where Alex and his sister are sure to be; ever the life and soul of the party.

Pez comes up by Henry's elbow and grabs it, steering him into the place where the thicket of bodies is densest- towards the entrance of the East Room. Henry's ears soon burn red with the flush of strangers' bodies pressed up against his own- his skin feels clammy and a cold sweat coats his forehead. His ears ring with the clamour of raised voices and laughter and he suppresses the urge to clamp his hands down on his ears.

Just as he's about to tell Pez to get them both out of here- to find some quiet corner for Henry to cower in for the rest of the night- that's when he sees him.