Preston made his way through the crowd of the lower floor, looking in vain for the little piece of gorgeous he had seen from the building.  His costume, hidden underneath his street clothes for those just in case moments, was itchy tonight and he kept reaching inside his jacket to scratch at his side and pull it from his skin.  That was something they never mentioned in the comics; flamboyant costumes made of super-science materials tended to not let you sweat properly, and got uncomfortable after a while.<br/><br/>He made the basic circuit; bar, tables, line outside the bathroom, corner with the dealer, and the crowded closet in the back that no-one was supposed to know about (and everyone did, gathering from the moans within) before he settled on one of the large blocks over the dance floor.  He glanced up at the VIP area, knowing that his little trick was highly unlikely to work a second time.  His eyes passed over the people just at the rail, and though there were some hot ones, the woman he had labeled "Cleavage" was no where to be seen.   He glanced around the room, half deciding to head back out on patrol, maybe bust down a few dealers in the park or see what the mob was up to in North Shore.  Since that deal a few months ago, crime in the city had been on the rise...<br/><br/>He almost slapped himself, looking with renewed interest around at the people.  So one got away, there was plenty of hot chicks wearing next to nothing surrounding him.  It was time he actually got a little back for his nightly patrols.  The Flaming Goth had probably nailed every good-looking goth chick down at Bienville Circle, it would hurt him to tap some rave-chick or preppy-wannabe.  He got a funny grin on his face, brushing the bangs back from his face.<br/><br/>Of course, he still had the Goth's costume.  He was sure all the little batlings in goth central would be happy to see him again...<br/><br/>Again, he almost slapped himself.  The Goth was gone, and he was better for it.  From now on, it was just the Blaze.  The Blaze and... when he had to be... Preston Scott.  He made his way to the bar, ordering a bottle of water and leaning back, watching the women come and go.  His eyes continued to reach up the VIP lounge though, daydreaming.