<div class="floatleft">[(http://i.imgur.com/JNiViON.jpg)      </div><hr/>Marie-Eve Tremblay<br/>Entering the dance hall<br/>Wearing: Leather jacket, jeans, black boots, thin-strapped sequined halter-top.<br/><hr/><br/>Mare opens the door just as the crowd's collective voices rise, their muffled cheers becoming a full chorus mingled with the heavy tones and harmonic buzz in a moment.  The crowd's exuberance seems lost on her, but the distraction is welcomed... her entrance goes unnoticed by most of the revelers, even the singles looking for others going solo.  The surge of adrenaline at the music is still muted by her regular breathing and the numbing load of sedatives in her bloodstream... enough to tranq a horse to the ground, but barely enough to keep her mellow.<br/><br/>She moves through the room to the bar easily, her silvery-blonde hair the only thing to stand out from the crowd just yet.  She certainly doesn't have the "runway walk" of a girl looking for attention, but she manages to look feminine enough with her natural swagger.  There's a gentle roll in her hips, a sturdiness in her posture... half-cowboy, half big-cat.<br/><br/>She asks for a domestic beer, her hands splayed in front of her on the bar top.  She glances over her shoulder, studying the crowd for a moment between picking out the empty tables and booths.