Golddinger
Michael Goldenrod and Stacey Robinson Jr. were getting ready to go to the latter's prom dance, a masque this year. "Golddinger is a movie about an agent of the imperium... A callidus assassin, whose polymorphine skills are second to none. Who can pretend to be anyone, anywhere. Whose never surprised, never intimidated. A true scion of the Imperium."
"What's that got to do with me?"
"I just think the costume makes you look dashing..."
"This person can be anyone, but he's got a recognizable costume?"
"It's a local legend, it doesn't have to make sense. Or it's his costume when he's at headquarters, doing non-spy things, like paperwork. Or at least, the first and second movie have him dressed like that..."
"An ancient terran jacket on a tall, thin frame with blackened hands. With a mustache?"
"You look just edible... Don't worry, if anything, I'm the one who should worry..."
"Why?"
"I'm accompanying the chaperone, not one of the regular prom boys... But I think you look more handsome than any of them..."
"Now, now, dear.". Her mother came by. "You're making your chaperone feel uncomfortable saying that..." Her voice tapered off.
"What? Am I purple? Grew a third head?" Michael looked for what had shut up the mother, a legendary feat.
"No, she's just right, in this particular instance, Lord Commissar..."
He did a spit-take. "I'm not yet senior or accomplished enough for that title... Please, just call me commissar, or Michael, you've had me at my house so often, I feel like I'm a family guest..."
"Well my daughter is right, this Golddinger is quite fancy... She might need to defend our brave chaperone... From evil temptresses and seductresses, some of them underage." She winked.
Her daughter piped up. "Not me though, I've been 'legal' for a month now..."
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