Two of them. There were only two of them. All that space, and there were only two of them. And what an odd pair they made. The GQ cover boy looking, designer clothing clad Karl, and his  mohawked, punk rock reject companion. Very odd indeed. She found it rather curious as well that Karl was the one that had greeted them, while the other one hadn't spoken, had barely looked at them.<br/><br/>Karl was a little older than the typical male clubgoers, which could account for his manners. He was polite, downright charming with his little kiss on the hand gesture. When was the last time a guy had done THAT when he'd met her? Bridget had to fight the urge to roll her eyes. It was in her nature to be cynical, especially when it came to men. She glanced over to Rachel, and even pressed a little bit closer to her friend. She could sense her friend's unease, so she flashed her an encouraging smile.<br/><br/>"I'm Bridget." she said, turning her gaze back to Karl when he took her hand, and repeated the gallant gesture.  His gaze was intense, piercing. It almost stole her breath, she even felt her chest tighten, and her pulse skip a beat. "A pleasure to meet you." she said politely. She finally pulled her hand away, shaking her head ever so slightly. "You know you guys look totally out of place. Neither of you look like this club's regular clientele." she stated. "So what brings you here, of all places?" she asked curiously. Direct, to the point. That was Bridget, for good or bad.