Today's been a long day. Not in any conventional way, but Alpha Centauri had spent nearly the entire day turning his rickety old ship practically upside down in the search of a suitable costume for the upcoming event; in fact, even now, he's still trying to go. Gadgets, wrenches, clothing items, and even cans of probably-spoiled food could be found either lodged inside of flimsy wall panels or made into safety hazards with their landing places littered carelessly all over the cockpit floor.

A door slams, and out comes Centauri, who took to storming to the nearest remotely sittable area - a worn leather couch - and loudly throwing himself onto it. He sighed hard, glaring up at the uneven ceiling panels and rubbing his temples; before dropping his arms again and letting them dangle over each side of the sofa.

He stared off for a while, in complex thought - more like brooding over what to wear - and, with no one to talk to, he raised one of his hands up to his peripheral view.

"What's wrong?"" spoke the hand, through Centauri.

He scowls. "Oh, y'know, I don't have ANYTHING TO WEAR for Halloween. 'Cause I forgot. Again."

The talking hand turns to face him, seeming unamused. "Kind of your fault, isn't it?--"

"Wait."

The Coelune straightened his posture, perplexed by his own line of thought, and shook his head. He'd caught himself being childish again, instead of actually taking action. What am I even doing, He bemoans, in his head.

Centauri rose to his paws and patted himself down for any spare change, luckily finding himself a measly 5 dollars in his pocket. Maybe he could just bargain with some humans for something small, that'll work. He dodged a metal panel that had nearly dropped over his head after slamming a door shut, and only narrowly avoided actual death from slipping on one of the cans he threw into the cockpit. A few things he kicked into corners on his way to the ship's control center.

A few button presses and a shaky, extremely reckless descent into the Earth's atmosphere later, it took very little time after landing and adjusting to the difference of gravity for Alpha Centauri to locate a convenience store - in which he was already feeling his brain liquidate at the amount of things he could browse; but by sheer force of luck and being too stubborn to ask for help he had found what he could only assume to be a costume section.

The section was very bare, most things already being sold out and leaving the shelves with nothing on them but a few misplaced returned items and whatever low quality accessories the locals didn't have any interest in buying. Centauri, however, as a man of distinct taste, found himself already attracted to cheap masks; and out of the bunch he had singled out what was probably in normal eyes considered the ugliest possible option.

It was a blank white face mask in the shape of a generic male face, however the quality was so poor that the face looked as if it were flattened by some kind of hydraulic press - leaving the thing wider than it should be and likely uncomfortable to wear.

There were other alternatives that he had briefly considered; a realistic (but equally tacky and cheaply made) skull mask, a hockey mask, and a flimsy horse mask that would cover his whole head. He was a little scared of the last one, which meant that it had to be good, too. He held it up in his offhand to compare with the compressed white face.

....

He left the store with both. His idea was that he would wear the white mask, and then on top of the white one he could put the full horse mask - so if someone were to, say, rip it off, they'd be surprised by whatever was underneath. It was a stupid plan, but Centauri saw it as a stroke of pure genius; and now was overconfident in his belief that he would now fit in perfectly among other participants in this holiday.