“This is ridiculous,” Handy muttered, taking off his helmet and turning from the scene. Thorax glanced at him before quickly turning her attention back around at the sound of a glass shattering. Jacques apparently had bumped into a table on his way across, momentarily lapsing in the song. The roiling blackness above gurgled dangerously. No one looked up. Jacques immediately picked his song back up and continued across with a slightly more hurried pace. While everyone was distracted, Handy cleaned the inside of his helmet as well as his face. That had not been pleasant to tolerate. When he turned back, helmet reaffixed, Jacques had made it soundly across, the dancers now doing a very odd dance indeed. It was hard to tell what the circular movements were supposed to be given their smoky, not-quite-there appearance, but it certainly looked like they were having fun.