Warren Worthington III

It was entirely possible that Warren didn't actually know the meaning of the word 'overkill.' At least, not when it came to organizing parties. And especially not when it came to organizing parties that people would be travelling across the multiverse to attend. He'd sprung for the rental of one of the side rooms at The Bronze, of course, and in doing so he might have gone just slightly carried away, paying to have the place decked out in garlands and icicle lights and, yes, mistletoe. Christmas carols were playing as people arrived, though thankfully they would be interspersed with less seasonal music throughout the night, and there was a spread of food that included not only sugar cookies and egg nog, but also the typical potato chips and veggie platters.

And, yeah, a fruitcake. Warren wasn't certain how the fruitcake had wound up on the table, but he wasn't really going to be terribly surprised if the thing stayed there the entire night, either.

Poor fruitcake.

[For those people who got invitations to the party, and up early for timezones and the like!]