As the evening dragged on, Irina felt herself growing light-headed.  She paused to grab a drink of water, her mind filing and sorting the facts now that it had begun to clear.  No club would get away with drugging their patrons, no matter how lax the police were.  That left only one option.  She frowned, then hid her anger behind a false smile.  Time to wait, and watch.  If he tried anything, she'd gut him.<br/><br/>The trodes, layered over the more subtle ones already in her hair, quickly caused an annoying interference.  She lost connection with her comlink, and she could feel the interference screwing with her head.<strong>"Damn it."</strong>She said with a growl.<strong>"My comlink is screwing with the connection."</strong>She reached up to pull off the trodes, both her own and the ones that Orell had added.<strong>"Sorry, technology seems to hate me."</strong>She explained as she headed over to the chair with her purse to shove her trodes into it.  She was at once disappointed, and relieved.  If he had drugged her, best to get away from him now.  If he hadn't, well, there went another job opportunity.<br/><br/>She turned to face Orell, her disappointment on the surface, and her purse in hand.<strong>"My apologies for wasting your time, but the interference was messing with my head.  I don't tell well with technology, doesn't look like I was made to do sim-sense."  </strong>She reached up to brush a bit of hair that had fallen out of place while she posed.