Electra

Erin smirked and waved him off. "Take ten, I'm feeling very generous tonight. But I'm serious about this Alex thing; if we're not careful we'll end up with a state wedding or something on the far side of the moon just to teach me a lesson. She takes her work very seriously. But hey, if we can get some of this stuff wrapped up tonight, at least enough that I can give her an action plan, we can knock off early and reward ourselves." Setting her papers aside, she unfolded herself from her crosslegged position on the floor. "I'll get the coffee machine started." She gave him a leisurely kiss as she passed on her way to the kitchen. "Mm, you smell like motor oil."

"It's supposed to be dull," Jessie told him earnestly. "Regular normal life now to make up for the way it was. Only Aquaria wants to be a superhero, and we got kidnapped to space that one time. Erin was really upset." The tattoo artist was easy to talk to, maybe something about the way he only seemed to be paying a little bit of attention. "You're very old, right? When you were learning how to do your art, how long did it take before you could make the work you did look like the picture in your head?"

Early spring was a good season for the rare auto restoration and preservation business, with all the aficianados and diletantes opening their garages and sheds after a long winter's hibernation. Soon there'd be car shows and leisurely Sunday drives in the nice weather, but for now Trevor was up well past his elbows in tune-ups and body work. Even with Riley Smith-Quinn from Claremont helping out, there was more work than could be done during normal working hours. By the time Trevor came in from work on the first Friday in March, Erin was long since home from work, camped out in the living room with half-a-dozen binders spread around her. "Hey," she greeted him with a quick smile. "Grab a shower and get in here, I've ordered Chinese. We gotta get some of these wedding plans knocked out before Alex takes matters into her own hands."

Raina scooped up a handful of nearby fire, cupping the flames in her hands like a baby animal. "He speaks in third person and doesn't give any straight answers," she replied dryly, giving the herald a raised brow. He was undeniably intimidating, but that just tended to bring out Raina's belligerent side. Besides, whose dream was this, anyhow? "Who is it that you work for, and what exactly do you want from me?" In her hands, the flames turned blue and then brilliant purple, then began creeping up her wrists. "I'm always interested in getting a heads-up about my future, if you've got one to give."

Jessie winced just a little at the first booms of the song on her sensitive ears, but otherwise bore up stoically under the croaking. She watched Ray work with considerable interest, once she was sure that the pain wasn't going to be too much for Aquaria to tolerate. Ray's words were interesting too, but she didn't really understand them, especially the words like ephemera. Sometimes Jessie was pretty sure she didn't belong in college. "My sister is the one who mostly meets the immortal people and the gods," she finally said, just to say something. "She went to heaven one time and was a horseman of the apocalypse and got to see our parents and sister. She says they're happy, and that's good because I guess if you can't be happy in heaven you can't really do much to be happy. So I guess even if things were bad for them, it all came out in the wash." She gave Aquaria's hand an encouraging pat.

Jessie began drifting back when Aquaria said she was ready, keeping a close watch over Ray's preparation that was at odds with the aimlessness of her movements. "It's not all the choices we make," she remarked, in a voice that would've been idly contrary if not for the look in her eyes. "Or not meaningful choice. Sometimes a stupid, random choice can be the difference between being good and being horrible." She hugged her own elbows and bounced once on her heels."Do you want to hold my hand?" she asked Aquaria suddenly.

Raina loved to dream of fire. Even when she'd been little, before she'd come into her powers, fire had never scared her. It was so warm, so bright, so useful. Humanity's first best friend among the elements, the one to provide comfort instead of the most base succor. In her dreams she was powerful and deliciously warm, alone only if she wished to be, surrounded by the kind of peace that showed up in the middle of a skydive, tenuous and razor-edged and perfect. The fire in her dreams did not immolate, it illuminated. Which is why, perhaps, it was so easy to pick out the one dark-edged element to her dreams, the one thing that didn't belong. The stranger was foreboding, but also exciting. It changed the rules of her world in an unpredictable way. Anything could happen in a chaotic dream like this. So she walked up to him and looked him in the eyes. "Well met to the stranger," she said in return. "What do you think I'm going to be?"

Jessie was too busy staring at Ray's magic trick to register his advice for a few moments; she had to visibly shake herself back into the conversation. "I, um... yeah, that makes sense." She looked down at her hands, thought about pushing sharp needles into skin, saw a flash of blank white nothingness and shuddered with unfocused revulsion. "I don't think tattooing is something I want to practice," she admitted. "But the art is beautiful. Did you do all of these things yourself?" She gestured to the artwork surrounding them.

Jessie had stepped away for a moment to look at the art again as Ray and Aquaria spoke. She was especially drawn to the pictures of nature, flowers, birds and fish captured in vivid colors and vibrant almost-motion. She looked down at her own skin, pale and impervious, and wondered what it would look like with colors on it, but couldn't really make the image coalesce in her head. It was hard enough some days to remember what she actually looked like, much less extrapolate from there. She turned back to Ray when he spoke to her. "Oh, I'm not good. It's just... it's something I do." She frowned slightly. "What do you need an orange for when you make tattoos?"

"We're from Project Freedom," Jessie volunteered guilelessly as she finally pulled off her raincoat and set it aside. The blue jeans and simple green sweater she wore under it made her look like a college student, but the tracking anklet that blinked a green light just above her tennis shoe told a different story. "We work with Dr. Marquez, and Dr. Baker, and Dr. Stanley." She looked over Ray's shoulder at the design placement and cocked her head. "That looks nice," she decided. "Will it hurt?"

"You have to do it." Jessie's wanderings had brought her close to where Ray and Aquaria were talking, and now she turned her attention to the conversation. "If Aquaria doesn't get her tattoos, she won't ever be a self-actualized person who sets her own direction in life." That last bit sounded a lot like a verbatim quote from somewhere, but the concern on Jessie's face seemed real. "Her tattoos are her stories, and without them she might forget who she is and what she's done. And that's terrible," she finished, her voice dropping off to a near-whisper.

Raina laughed with the cheerful condescension of an older sibling. "You know, I haven't got anything against trying to buy people's friendship. I did it myself for years, but it really helps if you don't, like, say right out loud that's what you're doing. I don't want anything from you anyhow, I do this stuff for fun." She deftly switched pots midway through the brewing cycle, and used the half-full carafe to pour two cups. "Back at my old school, back when I had the money and the big house and the important family, I was the one at the top of the heap, and I liked it there," she admitted frankly. "No way to get that here, I've been a pariah since the instant I walked onto campus, but I can be queen of the outsiders. And if you want to be the queen, you look after your own." Raina raised her cup to Sarah in ironic salute, then took a sip. "So you come from money, huh? Big name family, or nouveau riche?"

I know we talked about this one before, Sparkler's in

Jessie came in first, eager to be out of the rain despite her yellow rain slicker and matching umbrella. She collapsed the umbrella and gave the whole interior of the shop a suspicious look before subsiding and standing aside to let Aquaria inside. Aquaria never minded a little extra rain, after all. The art quickly caught Jessie's attention, far more sophisticated than her own amateur efforts at drawing and painting, and without even bothering to say hello or take off her coat, she wandered away to study the walls.

Paige began drumming her fingers absently to the rhythm several minutes before her mind caught up with it. It was a strange feeling, an itch in the back of the brain, but not painful, and not obviously malevolent. "We're definitely getting close to something," she observed aloud. "I can hear... it's like distant music, almost, but it's with my psychic senses and not my ears. Anybody else feeling something odd?" She leaned forward to try and get a better view of the landmark they were approaching. "Well, that'd definitely get my vote for "Best Probably-Supernatural Landscape Feature. Tommy, are you getting footage as we approach?" Tommy, who had been sticking his head and camera out the window for several minutes already, gave her a thumbs-up with his free hand.

Singularity startled at the voice coming over the loudspeaker, rounding her shoulders and trying to shrink down small even as Aquaria pleaded for... something, she wasn't sure what. She wasn't sure who the bad guys were anymore, or where they were coming from, but it was getting very crowded here and she didn't have her shoes. And the rock monster was getting up again, and the little alien thing had a gun and looked angry, and there wasn't enough air in the air with so many people inside and so much space outside, and pretty much everything inside her was screaming to run except she couldn't run because terrible things happened when you tried to run except that she didn't know what they were because all that information was gone and hidden behind the smooth white walls. White walls like space, like negative space, inverted space, white vacuum behind white walls, so that every so often a little chunk of leftover space debris from some ancient disaster could come along and blow through a bulkhead-- She grabbed for Sitara's extended hand, but instead of pulling herself up, exerted a little of her strength to effortlessly pull the friendly humanoid down into whispering distance. Up close, Singularity's pupils were blown so wide that the brown was nearly invisible, and she was shaking in fine tremors of stress. "You have to run," she told Sitara in a hoarse whisper. "Go now. It's too late, you have to go! The bad-luck man, the man with no face, the music man, the strong man. Pathos!" She released Sitara's hand just before her grip became tight enough to seriously bruise, then dropped her head to her own upraised knees.

"If there weren't a problem, you wouldn't care what I've heard," Raina countered, leaning back against the wall and focusing on the older hero. "And if you know there's a problem, it's because you've been hearing the same things I have. Merlin looked Archer up, you know, he looked up all the teachers here because he is a delinquent with too much time on his hands." Merlin nodded at this assessment. "Archer really used to be something. And some of the first Claremont graduates say he was instrumental in making them into heroes. That he'd get right into the mix and work with them, that you'd never find a more dedicated teacher. Is he just a burnout case, you think? No partner, no kids, too old to be doing real hero work. It plays. But if somebody wanted to sabotage an entire generation of heroes from the start, you know there's only one place to do it."

Singularity very nearly punched Aquaria out of sheer surprise at the abrupt descent, but managed to pull her strike at the last moment. The adrenaline of the fight began to feed back on itself, making her shake visibly as she darted glances wildly around the room. "You shouldn't have come back here," she told Aquaria. "You could've gotten away." One of the pursuers was different from the others, looked human, spoke English. Jessie wasn't sure they could trust him, or any of them, but what else were they supposed to do? The Voidrunners, people who had been nice to them and had given them a ride so almost-close to home, they were getting caught up in it now too, and everything was bad and dangerous. Jessie took one more look at Aquaria, then let out a breath. Raising her arms over her head, she sank slowly into a cross-legged position on the floor, not that far from where her opponent was still crumpled.

Ready to Begin Midnight II and Fleur de Joie The dark haired young man met Stesha’s van as she pulled up to the end of the long, curving driveway that ended in front of the Hunter Manor. She’d first met Trevor Hunter while he was still in high school and while he’d certainly grown and matured into his tall frame in the intervening years it was still a little hard to believe that the taciturn heir was getting married. His customary sunglasses and the brim of his hat hid much of his expression but the way he was subtly fidgeting with the cuff of his burgundy dress shirt struck her as unusually restless. “Thank you for coming,” Trevor greeted her as she opened the door, stepping around the front of the vehicle and checking to see if there was anything she needed help carrying out. “Know you don’t do this much anymore; didn’t trust anyone else to do it perfectly.” And there was that restlessness, nearly hidden by his reserved body language and level voice but still there, like the tension before a fight. “It’s my pleasure!” Stesha assured him, closing the door of her little-used minivan and giving Trevor a quick hug. “I’m so happy for you and Erin, and I’ve always loved doing weddings. The grounds here are going to be spectacular in another two months, and I’ll just gild the lily. So to speak.” She laughed and walked around to the back of the van, popping it open to reveal a huge tangle of thin metal poles. “This is an arbor trellis, well, on a good day. It needs a little sorting out,” she admitted. “Have you decided where you want the ceremony?” Wordlessly Trevor gestured with one arm around the side of the mansion before leading the way. It took a few steps before he modulated his longer stride so that the green haired florist didn’t have to jog to keep up and he shot a quietly apologetic look her way as he did. The pace he set brought them around to the back of the grounds in short order to view a wide open lawn. The field of grass was given shape by touches of landscaping and a well maintained pond bisected by stepping stones in one corner. There were several large beds of dark, rich looking topsoil but clearly no one had taken up the challenge of filling them with plants in more than a few years. The towering junipers that formed a green barrier around the perimeter were at least tidily trimmed and looked after. Without comment Trevor looked to Stesha for her opinion, shifting his weight from one foot to another. Stesha looked over the scene for a few moments, before letting out an appreciative “Wow…” She crouched down and ran her fingers through the dead grass, scooping up a bit of loose soil and crumbling it in her fingertips. The grass she’d touched began to stir and come to life, greening and growing as though spring had come early and incredibly fast. “This is beautiful, Trevor. You could do just about anything you wanted here. How many people are you inviting?” “Ah,” the groom-to-be replied after a beat of silence, straightening his back with the air of a student who had just been called upon in class. He’d done his customary amount of preparation before Stesha had arrived, compiling a list of flowers he knew Erin liked, cross-referenced with those that were appropriate for the climate and time of year, taking some basic soil samples with the manor’s copious scientific equipment and even doing cursory research into the most common pollen allergies. It was perhaps time to admit, however, that there were some sizable gaps in the planning he and Erin had managed to wade through. “That… is an excellent question.” His response earned him a startled look from Stesha, who quickly modulated her expression back to something more appropriate to a wedding vendor. Old habits died hard. “That’s probably going to be a question you want answered soon,” she offered. “If it’s just a gathering for people who are in the know about Midnight, I can get a little bigger and more creative with the arrangements, if that’s what you’d like, otherwise you’ll want a little more muted. You and Erin met at hero school, right?” Trevor made a soft sound of confirmation without looking over to the shorter woman, instead focusing on some point in the distance. “Public face of the Hunter fortune now that-- hn.” His mouth briefly twisted into a sour expression before he schooled into an even more impassive mask than before. “Weddings are important society events. Smart thing would be to invite large crowd, extravagant in expected fashion.” When he finally looked down to Stesha he was wearing a faint frown, hands tucked into the pockets of his dark slacks. “Don’t want to share it with them.” It seemed to take an almost physical toll on Trevor to admit that, a palpable sense of embarrassment for not immediately committing to the most reasonable, responsible route radiating from him. With another inarticulate sound he turned away again. “I’ve always been of the opinion that people should be able to have what they want for their own wedding, and not what other people want for them.” Stesha pursed her lips, studying both the venue and the groom-to-be. “You go into it figuring you’ll only do it once, so you want to get it right. You could always throw another party later, a big reception for all the folks who didn’t come to the actual wedding. It’d add to the expense and the hassle,” she admitted candidly, “but you’d get to have your wedding cake and eat it, too. And if she’s got family and friends who aren’t in the know as well, maybe that could make it easier for them too. You know big hero gatherings can be targets.” “That angle is covered,” he replied much more certainly though without elaborating. He’d already seen to it that anyone who even contemplated causing trouble within the same postal code as the wedding would dearly regret it. Mulling over her words with quiet deliberation he eventually decided. “Reception is a good idea. Could make that work.” “It’ll be like a destination wedding in your own backyard,” Stesha told him cheerfully. She walked up to a knot of dormant hydrangea bushes near the house, which began to bloom under her absent attention. Reaching into one cluster of blooms, she pulled out a tape measure and began to measure the planting boxes. “So, are you excited?” For the first time since she’d arrived the corner of Trevor’s mouth turned upward in what was probably a smile. “Yes. Very.” He followed Stesha to the boxes, watching everything she did with studious interest and an eye for where he might lend assistance. With some small hesitation he spoke up, “Thank you again. Was concerned weddings might be a… difficult topic, now.” He’d been at her own wedding and their didn’t seem to be any delicate way to address the way that had ultimately ended. Stesha’s own smile slipped for a moment, then returned as a slightly crooked, tireder version of itself. “Don’t worry about it,” she assured him. “I love weddings, honestly. I love the idea of weddings, two people falling in love and throwing a party to celebrate that love with everyone who’s important to them. I loved my wedding, even though the marriage fell apart. I’m so happy for you, Trevor, that you’ve found someone you love enough to make promises to. I’m honored that you asked for my help.You’re going to have a wonderful party, and everybody’s going to have a great time.” The restlessness seemed to leave the tall young man’s posture as he listened to Stesha, or at least was lessened enough that he was better able to conceal it behind his practiced stoicism. He parted his lips to speak before pressing them into a thin line and trying again to order his thoughts into words. “I feel…” he trailed off on his second attempt before trying a different tactic and simply spreading his hands apart to indicate a span far exceeding the capacity of his chest. “That’s good,” she assured him with a soft chuckle. “That’s how it’s supposed to feel. All the rest of it is just the details. Though some of those details are important!” she added, mock-sternly. “You’ll want to get that guest list sorted out very soon so your invitations are timely. Or you could just have that friend of yours, Edge, pop everyone into their seats whenever you decide to get married, but that might cause some inconvenience.” Finished with the tape measure, Stesha tossed it in the direction of the hydrangeas, where it was immediately sniffed out and gobbled up by one particularly assertive stalk of flowers. “So listen, what I’m thinking is we put the arbor trellis up by the pond and run mostly-white flowers along it, with plenty of greenery. Wisteria, clematis, maybe even morning glories for a little color. Mini-bouquets run along the aisle, every other row, a couple of big arrangements in standing containers at the end of the aisle instead of an altarpiece. We’ll fill these planter boxes with a spring garden assortment that will last all the way into the hot months, and you and Erin can decide on what colors you want for the rest of the flowers. Basket of rose petals for your flower girl, corsages, bouquets and boutonnieres for the wedding party and all the parents. What do you think?” Trevor followed her description as she indicated one area of the estate after another, mentally picturing the sprawling arrangements and not for the first time imagining the day itself. Softly taking a deep breath he closed his eyes and was silent for a long moment before turning to Stesha with a slight curve to his lips that was unquestionably a smile. “Sounds like a plan.”

"Whoa there, cowboy," Raina advised, following Sarah through the circle and into the cafeteria. "We're not talking physical fighting here, much less powered combat. Madison and her cronies make war with words. When it comes to that kind of BS, there are no victims, only volunteers. I like to mix it up with them because that's what I do, that's who I am. I'm as big a bitch as Madison on her best day," she boasted with a grin. "And on my best day, she can't hold a candle." She flipped the lights on in the big industrial kitchen, then went over to the coffee machine and began fiddling with it as she spoke. "What I'm giving you is the same advice I give my other shy friends. You stay out of her orbit and you don't give her any ammunition if you can help it. If they give you trouble, you come to me and I'll draw their fire." The coffee machine made an alarming wheezing noise when Raina flipped it on, causing Merlin to hastily jump to the counter and change the settings. It settled quickly and began to brew.

For a moment, Gina kissed Steve back, flooded with the relief of being alive and safe and no longer pinned down in a car without nearly enough extra added safety features. There was also the relief that Steve was unhurt and seemed emotionally all right, not looking as though he were going to go home and spend another night sitting in the empty bathtub because he'd fought humans as an Omegadrone again. But the moment couldn't last forever. The muffled pop and flash of a camera was enough to freeze her in place, then have her drawing back from him, though her fingers stayed buried tightly against his chest. People were staring at them. Lots of people, some of them with cameras. Some of them were police types, but a lot of them were just regular people, or reporters, or... she didn't even know. Way too many people staring, that was definitely the case. She squirmed free of Steve's grip, then paradoxically turned and hid her face against his chest. "Let's go home, please," she entreated, her words muffled almost to inaudibility.

Say Yes Wander The mirror was enormous. If it hadn’t been curled around on itself into a near-circle, it could’ve served as the wall of a dance studio. Erin stared into the mirror, and felt a dozen, a hundred copies of herself glowering back at her. It reminded her of pretty much any trip she’d taken into the multiverse. At least giving the stink-eye to her own reflection helped distract her from the fact that she and all her many doppelgangers were wearing nothing but underpants and a strapless bra. It was a weird trip to the multiverse. “Frank?” she called over her shoulder. “Have you got it? I’m freezing!” “Just one tiny little moment,” Frank’s voice assured her from somewhere beyond the mirror. “I’m basting.” “You’re what?” Erin had a sudden vision of Frank with a turkey baster somewhere in his sewing kit. The hell? “The skirt is too long, you’re all torso,” Frank complained good-naturedly. Erin did not believe that actually answered her question. “You won’t like it if you don’t think you can fight in it if you need to, so I’m not going to show it to you without the hem.” “Oh. Okay.” Erin didn’t exactly feel enlightened, but she had to agree with the conclusion. “Um, if I don’t like it, will there still be, you know, time to do anything? I know I’ve been putting this off.” “You still have almost two months,” he assured her, “and I am a known worker of miracles. If you don’t make your decision until the day before, well, maybe I won’t be able to work in as many of my special touches-” “You mean it won’t double as a parachute and have Kevlar lining.” “-But you will still be a vision of loveliness.” Erin and her army of doubles raised an eyebrow. “You’re good, Frank, but even you-” “Every woman is lovely on her wedding day,” Frank interrupted, coming up to the one break in the mirrors with a double armful of white fabric. “And you give me more to work with than you like to believe. I’ve been dressing you for six years now, and waiting for nearly that long for a chance to put this dress on you. So how about giving a little trust to an old man, hmm?” She smiled at him in the mirror, her cheeks reddening a little. “You haven’t steered me wrong yet,” she admitted. “I just wanna know, when Trevor comes in here, does he have to stand in the mirror in his boxer shorts and socks?” “That’s privileged information,” he told her archly, making her laugh as she raised her arms to let him drop the dress over her head. “He will definitely be getting a new tuxedo, however, even if I have to drag him in, muttering and grumbling monosyllables. Lean forward and hold up your hair.” Erin did as ordered, oofing slightly when he pulled hard on the intricate laces that ran up the back of the bodice. “There we are. Now take a look at yourself.” He stepped backwards as she straightened up and got a good look at Frank’s handiwork The dress was definitely long, nearly brushing her toes even with the quick, long stitches that Frank had added to the hemline. It wasn’t very fussy, with most of its design coming from darts in the material rather than beads or lace. It had no sleeves, which was usually a deal-killer for Erin because even after being out of high school for five years, she was still self-conscious about her arms, but the look wasn’t as bad as she’d expected. Erin studied herself soberly in the mirror for a long minute. She looked… strong, she guessed. She pretty much always looked strong. But kind of regal too, though she squirmed at the description even inside her own head. Like if she wanted to, she could pick up a bat or a sword and lead an army of guys dressed in armor. Which was a weird thought for her wedding dress, but maybe Trevor’s endless tactical planning was bleeding over into her thoughts as well. But when she looked at the mirror, she could still see herself. Trevor would be able to see her. “It’s good,” she told Frank, her voice unusually soft. “It… it’s really good.” She pursed her lips tightly, glared at Erin-in-the-mirror even as she blinked hard against filling eyes. “It really is all right if this isn’t the one,” Frank reminded her quietly, coming up behind her left shoulder. “You don’t even have to decide right now. I know this past year has been stressful, and you’ve been putting off a lot of the planning. People would understand…” “No, I know it’s right,” she assured him as she pressed her finger and thumb to the bridge of her nose. “It’s exactly what I want to be wearing, to do exactly what I want to do,” she added, very firmly. “I’ve never been so sure about anything as I am about Trevor, and Alex has most of the planning sewn up so tight, I’m almost afraid to mess with it. All of that’s going to be fine.” She took a deep breath. “I just wish my mom were with me today.” Frank nodded and gave her arm a quick squeeze, then left her to collect herself for a moment in privacy. She scrubbed her face and straightened her hair and gave her doubles a stern mental pep talk about stiff upper lips and self-control. They all seemed better for it. “Do you think maybe the hem should be a little shorter?” she called over the mirrors. “It still seems long.” “Your shoes have two inches of heel, darling,” Frank reminded her, coming back with an armful of accessories that had Erin giving him a dubious look. “It’ll be perfect once they’re on. Your young man may have to wear lifts, but we’ll all manage just fine, I’m sure.” “Yeah,” Erin said on the edge of a sigh. “I think we will.”

Raina and Merlin both listened to Relentless, then turned to confer with each other like attorneys at a deposition. "Archer's a problem, isn't he," Raina asked, except it wasn't a question. "Not just to the students, there's something going on with him, and you don't like it." Merlin nodded agreement to this assessment. "I don't have him for PE because I take outside classes, but I've heard stories. He doesn't show up, he yells at the students, the exercises don't make sense. I know gym teacher's usually a pity position for ex-football coaches who can't make the cut anymore, but the kind of PE we have to do here seems a little more important than a semester of badminton or volleyball."

By the time the SuperCrime! crew had all their gear stashed and their plans laid out, it looked as though everyone else was pretty much ready to go as well. The habitual half-an-eye Paige kept on Richard told her that he was handling inter-group relations for the moment, so she went ahead and did a quick video piece by the vans, explaining what they'd arranged, then cleared out to let her guys pick up a little B-roll of the caravan that was assembling. "We're ready," she called up to Richard and the others. "We should get rolling before we risk losing the light."

Raina laughed, not breaking her rhythm for a moment. "Hell no," she told him with a grin that didn't bother with the least hint of apology. "I came here for the crowds, and I've known you for like twenty-five seconds. Besides, I gotta keep an eye on my friends so they don't do anything massively stupid without me." She twirled in his arms, then looped her own arms over his shoulders. "So we can keep on dancing, cause I'm enjoying that, "or you can leave in a huff and I'll dance with a dozen other guys. Whichever!" She cut her gaze to one side for a moment, keeping track of her cohorts as best she could. There was no yelling or crashing yet, probably a good sign.