Angel's there in a suit and tie he didn't pick out for himself, having arrived not entirely of his own accord. It was presented to him when Cordelia informed him he was going with her and took Connor from his arms, ushering him into the bathroom to change. She was already decked out to the nines, giving him little room to take her image in before the bathroom door was slammed in his face. When he emerged, she had his son dressed up in a little suit, draping a towel over his shoulder before handing Connor back over, muttering something about spit up stains and returns. (He refrained from reminding her that there was no point in spoiled returns when everything was free.)

The last time he was at one of these things, it was in Sunnydale at Buffy's prom. The last function that school saw before graduation and its inevitable destruction. Good riddance.

"One day you'll be going to your prom," he told the toddler as he bounced him in the careful crook of his arm. "Hopefully at a high school that's not sitting on the mouth of hell."

Connor squealed at him, the music not bothering him as much as Angel feared it would, and reached for his father's mask. It was tied loosely and slid easily off his face. One end of it went into Connor's mouth, rendering it a lost cause. Which was okay, because the vampire wasn't too thrilled about wearing it in the first place.