Honour furrowed her brow and faced forwards. The dance floor didn’t seem to have changed much since she’d last looked over it, when they’d first opened to modern music. There was the stage with the ‘hype colt’ MC, who was still doing his best to inject energy while the DJ held a headphone up to one ear as she bobbed left and right, working the controls. Flashing strobes, colored washes, and a pair of glittering, reflective balls casting rotating dots managed a respectable nightclub setup. And the speakers were plentiful, loud, and well-tuned, with deep bass that Honour felt in her ribcage. It wasn’t her scene — not anymore, if it ever really was — but she still appreciated the quality and effort. Most of the places they’d gone on Tuesday night had superior setups, but none of them had the glitz of the Gala.