Okay, so faster, but not quite as fast as he had thought.  The dance floor was crowded, so Rudy still had to weave between people dancing off the floor and people ordering drinks.  Nobody seemed upset at the occasional bump, until he got to a girl with blonde hair and violet eyes.  Uh...what?  That wasn't...he saw the dress girl, just past her, but before he could apologize and get to her to ask why she was running away, the suddenly high (how else do you explain that expression) girl got...angry?  Oh God.  Had she taken PCP?  Meth?  Something else?  He'd assumed she was drugged out on one of the standard club drugs, but those tended to make you spacey and happy, and stay that way, not get angry.<br/><br/>"<em>I'm</em>all wrong?"  How the hell did that work?<br/><br/>Then things got weird.  That is to say, even weirder than they already had been at chasing a girl in a gothic dress through a nightclub that should have been a nightclub but a record store, and let's be honest, that's pretty damn weird already.  He...<em>thought</em>time passed, and Rudy was pretty sure of it, but he hadn't a clue as to anything, other than that he smelled coffee, everything hurt, and that he was facedown on a slightly damp towel.  Had...the angry girl?  Was she some sort of drugged-out martial artist?<br/><br/>Rudy put an arm on the table, breathing in as he turned his head sideways, getting ready to sit up.