Here is a bit of a gift...
Characters (some on party hats and some who wouldn't be caught dead in one) all yell: Surprise! Happy New Year!
Vila (blows a party favour): Great you're just in time for the countdown!
Writer (perplexed): Oh. Hello. Uh. Happy New Year? Countdown?
Cally: Is there something wrong? It is the last day of the year.
There are sounds of merriment and much imbibing of alcohol.
Writer: I know it's the last day but...
Avon (looking interested): What appears to be the problem?
Writer: Well for starters, it isn't New Year's countdown for another 5 hours.
Vila: No, it isn't. It's in (checks chronometer) ten minutes.
Writer: Ten minutes? Your clocks must be wrong.
Avon: No. Ours are correct. It's the time zone.
Writer (even more confused): The time zone? But…
Vila (trying to be helpful): That's when…
Writer: I know what a time zone is. You're telling me that you're all on a different time zone than I am? One where it's New Year in ten minutes?
Avon: Got it in one.
Writer: But but but…
Argus: Do you still have a problem?
Avon: That's hardly surprising. She always has a problem.
Reya (picking up a glass of champagne from a tray): It's not a problem. It's just a different way of seeing things.
Argus (comes behind her and discreetly tries to take the glass)
Reya (gives him a look): What are you doing?
Argus (looking flustered): Should you be drinking?
Reya: It's New Years.
Argus: Yes, but with your injury…
Reya: It's not a real injury, Argus. That's just in the story and I'm better now.
Argus: I'd still feel better if you didn't drink. You never know what she's going to do with you next.
Reya (sighs): Alright. If it'll make you feel better.
Argus (puts an arm around Reya's shoulders and takes on a look that tells everyone that he's prepared to spend the rest of the evening glaring at anyone who dares to even hint of hurting her): It will. Am I being silly?
Reya (smiles affectionately at him): Just a little.
Argus: It's just that…I can't stand the thought of you getting hurt. Even if it's pretend. Do you…want some champagne? I can get some for you.
Reya: No. That's fine. But I expect you to make it up to me.
Argus (coughs in embarrassment at the insinuation in her voice and tries to whisper, but not quietly enough): Reya, not now.
Servalan (Writer thinks: Servalan? What's she doing here?) (says with snide civility): Oh, please do. It might finally make this dull excuse of a party worth my time.
Avon (takes a threatening step towards her, Cally grabs his arm to hold him back): What are you doing here, Servalan?
Servalan (with an icy but amused smile): I was invited.
Avon (eyes flashing with barely suppressed hatred): You - were - invited??? By whom?
Vila (who almost seems to be joined at the hip with Corinne these days): I bet she crashed the party. None of us would've invited her. We have taste. (looks at Avon's murderous eyes) And we want to live.
Reya: I invited her.
They all look at her with shock
Argus: Reya, why would you do that?
Reya: It is the season for peace and goodwill. And we're just finishing a story that deals with new hope in a society that had none. I thought it might be a nice gesture to at least try. Even if it's only for a little while.
Avon: Keep your friends close but your enemies closer?
Reya (smiles): Something like that. And it is the time for peace. Even if it's only a temporary illusion for some.
Writer: Can we get back to my problem? How can you possibly be in a different time zone when you're all in my head?
Avon: It's science fiction.
Writer is speechless and has no idea how to respond to that.
Cally: Come and join the celebration. (Hands writer a virtual glass of champagne.)
After they countdown (five hours too early for the writer), they all lift glasses in a toast.
Argus: Happy New Year everyone! May this year be one of peace, goodwill and renewed hope in this world, and in the real one! Cheers!