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"What am I supposed to be?"
Alec gaped in horror as Parker studied her reflection in the mirror, smoothing down her white dress and touching her wig.
"First of all, it's not a what. It's a who. And you're Princess Leia from the original Star Wars trilogy - only one of the most iconic female characters in American movie history."
"Huh. This dress needs more pockets."
"Do you know Star Wars?" he asked.
"Sure!" Parker said, and Alec had one second to be relieved before she raised her hand, fingers spread in the Vulcan salute. "I come in peace!"
"What are you even – that's – girl, put your hand down."
Parker lowered her arm, and Hardison rubbed his eyes.
"Did I do something wrong?" she asked.
"That's from Star Trek, not Star Wars." He wasn't about to get into the correct salutation that went along with it, because his patience was already thinning.
"I thought they were the same thing," Parker said.
"No, they are not the same thing, and you can't say that to anyone at the con, do you understand? They will eat you for breakfast."
Parker giggled, the skin around her eyes crinkling merrily. "The con."
"Now is not the time for puns," Alec said, feeling his blood pressure rising. He was going to need, like, four liters of cherry Mountain Dew to calm himself after this. "Now is the time for you to promise me that you won't go in there and make the biggest newbie geek faux pas of all time."
Parker raised her hand in the Vulcan salute once more. "I swear."
Alec raised his eyes to the ceiling beseechingly. "Lord help me."
Eliot walked out of the bathroom adjusting his vest and gun holster. "Does this look right?"
"You need to put your hair up," Alec answered. "Han Solo did not have your luscious, shoulder-length locks."
"My hair is not luscious," Eliot said with a glare as he pulled it back in a rubber band. Parker reached her hand out to touch the top of his head, but Eliot shrugged her away.
"Would you prefer 'voluptuous'?" Alec asked.
"I'd prefer that you shut the hell up," he answered. "Now who is Han Solo again?"
Alec threw his hands up in defeat. "How have you two never seen Star Wars?"
"I saw it," Eliot answered, "when I was ten."
"Forget it, I'm calling this whole thing off," Alec said.
"Nate might not agree with that," Parker pointed out.
"I'll make him see the hopelessness of this situation," Alec retorted. To Eliot, he said, "Han Solo is a bad ass smuggler and bounty hunter who ends up working with Luke and Leia."
"I can do bad ass," Eliot answered with a smirk. "Anyway, what difference does it make if we don't know everything about this stuff? We're wearing the stupid costumes."
"We're – " Alec began incredulously. "If I walked up to some big shot mafioso, do you think he'd take me seriously just because I was wearing an Italian suit?"
"Are you really comparing a bunch of geek boys to the mob?" Eliot asked.
"Geeks are vicious and elitist. They won't let you near them if you don't speak the language."
"But –" Eliot started.
Alec cut him off. "Do I try to correct you when you talk about the best way to make someone cry? No, I do not. A little respect?"
"Fine," Eliot said. "You're King of the Geeks."
"That's all I'm saying," Alec said. "So you should both let me do the talking when we get in there."
He jammed his black helmet over his head and pulled on his black gloves, finishing his costume.
Parker looked at him and said, in a deep, growly voice, "Luke, I am your faaaaather."
"Oh, that she knows."