"Nope. - no.. i don't.." ezra wouldn't necessarily have said she ripped her hand from their grasp, but there had been a certain, startling finality to it as she stepped back, corralled back in by the surging crowd. another gesture an attempt to persuade them otherwise. I don't dance... Something something hips -- questions and unwanted encouragements shattered within the sound of the surrounds. would her ears ring forever after this? would she spend the rest of her life thinking she'd suddenly become ailed by tinnitus? or would a split second decision to join her friends become a hauntingly life changing choice? she'd have put money on the latter. another damp cold hand paws at her, tugging her back into the fray of what she can only assume is this clubs excuse for a dancefloor. all she sees is entirely too much gyrating and misplaced purchase. "two left feet, clumsy." small words, minimal syllables. maybe it'd get through the sphere of noise a little easier - until recognition in the person slipping by from within the crowd fills her lungs with stale, putrid air, "my friend - they're, they're not well.. i'm uh," she's forced to pull away for a third time as the stranger reaches for her hand, "no, no dancing.. i already told you that."

location: the guilded night

His cane hits at least half a dozen people as he tries to make way to one of the exits, most of them too drunk or high or lost in their dances to care, getting away with just a few mumbled apologies thrown over his shoulder. He considers the restroom for a moment, but he is pretty certain it will be just as crowded and somehow even less hygienic, and suddenly his lungs ache for a breath of fresh air.

He finds himself in an alleyway, on some side of the nightclub different than the one he entered through, and leans against the brick wall, enjoying the silence- or as close as he can get to it, with the sound of car engines in the distance and drunken laughs from passers-by every now and then.

The door that offered him refuge opens again a few minutes later, ending that nice window of solitude. "I'm afraid this hiding spot is already taken."

the crack of the cue ball echoed through the rattlesnake bar, sharp enough to turn a few heads. jett leaned in slowly, lined it up, sending the eight ball gliding straight into the corner pocket with a final knock. game over; just like that. a few groans circled the table, a couple of curses under breath, but he barely acknowledged any of it. instead, the man straightened, rolling his shoulder once, the win cost him nothing at all. there's a stack of cash sitting near the rail - messy, tempting. he pulled it in with one hand, thumbing through it quick, not even counting, didn't need to, he already knew he'd come out ahead